


Swept Away

by SarielLunar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Canonical Character Death, F/M, I really hate these two, Lori Bashing, M/M, Shane Bashing, Slow Burn, Sophia gonna live cause I said so!, Stiles is sick of shit, Surprise Relationships yay, Zombie vs Walker arguing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarielLunar/pseuds/SarielLunar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the "deadpool" everyone knew about supernatural creatures. So when the dead started walking the government thought they might either be the cause or the solution. After the world ended Rick and his crew may have finally found the best weapon against the walkers. Problem is it's a mouthy 17 year old kid that knows nothing about tact and is fed up with assholes. *cough-Shane-cough*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I had to write this. I need Daryl and Stiles to happen. I haven't found any fics that do it so I'm gonna. Anyway this got into my head and wouldn't shut up until I wrote it down.  
> There will be tons of Shane and Lori bashing cause I hate them.

Prologue

Stiles hated this place. He looked around the never ending vast white room. He had no desire to ever be here again but still would end up here on occasion. Every few dreams or so it would happen. Most of the time Stiles would end up running and running as he tried to find a way out, even though he knew there wasn’t one. Now though, with everything that happened, Stiles wasn’t in the mood for this crap. With a huff he sat down on the floor. He gasped, startled when his butt hit the surface. It didn’t feel like tile. Long fingered hands dropped to his sides and ran over the rough texture.

It felt like wood.

Stiles knew before he even looked down that he was sitting on the Nameton.

“Fuck!”

“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”

The young man looked up and saw a deathly pale version of himself looking back at him with a smirk. But it wasn’t him. Stiles knew exactly who it was. Or what.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles growled. “We locked your voided ass up!” The Nogistune nodded and looked down at the Go board between them and set down a white stone.

“Funny thing about the end of the world,” it said looking back at Stiles. “…you humans need to loot and scavenge. Open things you shouldn’t.”

Stiles glared at the creature wearing his face. It watched him back expectantly. With a huff Stiles placed a black stone on the board. There was nothing else to do.

“So what, you’re here for revenge?”

The Nogitsune huffed and placed another stone. 

“I’m over 1000 years old, Stiles. I’d like to think I’m above petty things like revenge. No. I’m here to visit the only human to ever best me.”

Stiles shook his head and put down another stone.

“So in addition to the world ending you’re gonna add some chaos to it?”

The Nogitsune laughed and shook its head. 

“End of the world, Stiles. There’s enough suffering, pain, and anarchy around the world that I’m sated for the first time in my existence and could probably stay that way for another century. No I’ll be around but imagine my surprise to find you and your friends in this little predicament.” The creature placed another stone on the board.

“Your gloating leaves something to be desired,” Stiles grumbled as they continued their game. He ignored the steam that left his mouth as he spoke. It wasn’t a stretch since he’d been ignoring the frigid air for a while.

“It’s not gloating. This is genuine concern.”

Stiles looked at him critically. It would do no good to show his emotions as the creature could read him like a book.

“Why would you have any concern for me when all you wanted to do was kill me,” he nearly spat at the spirit. The Nogitsune smirked and gestured down to the board. Impatiently, Stiles placed another stone. He was so so close to flipping the damn thing over but he knew this was a tit for tat situation. As long as he played the game he would get answers. Truth be told though he’d rather do this crap with Hannibal Lector. At least with that guy he knew where he stood. 

“That was to win a game. That’s beside the point. No one has ever survived being possessed by me. Ever. That makes you special, Stiles. That keeps us connected. With that connection comes…” Another white stone was placed on the board. “…benefits.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and slowly placed a stone down.

“The dead… They are your prey.” Another white stone down. Stiles gave the creature a disgusted look that only seemed to amuse the spirit.

“You’re talking about those zombies? I’m supposed to eat them?” 

Black stone.

“No. You are their destroyer. The world is about balance. And you will be the bringer of that balance.”

“Stop with your riddles. Talk plainly, you stupid fox!”

White stone.

“Think of the dead as dust. You are the broom.”

Black stone.

“Dust? DUST!” Stiles snapped. “Most of my friends are dead. Malia. Dead.” 

Black stone.

“Chris.”

Black stone.

“Liam.”

Black stone.

“Malcom.”

Black stone.

“Danny.”

Black stone.

“Melissa!”

Black stone.

Black stone.

Black stone.

Black stone.

Finally, the memories of the dead overwhelmed the young man and it was too much. He flipped the board and got in the creature’s face, glaring straight into the spirit’s eyes.

“They’re all gone. I watched them die then come back and kill others and this is all a game to you. A buffet!” The whole time the Nogitsune seemed impassive in the face of Stiles fury. The pair stared at each other.

“You never noticed did you?” The creature tilted its head a fraction to the side.

“Noticed what?” Stiles huffed as he sat back.

“The dead never went near you. They never noticed you. Didn’t you ever wonder why?”

“I was surrounded by werewolves. It was pretty hard to get to me.”

The Nogitsune smirked.

“You’re a smart guy, Stiles. I’ll let you figure it out. For now I’ll leave you with this. A new riddle.”

“Not this shit again!” Stiles ran a hand though his hair in frustration. Talking to this guy made him want to rip his hair out.

The spirit nodded in mock sympathy.

“Strength, speed, and determination. None of that matters. In the end It always wins. What is It?”

“What?”

The spirit got to its feet and stared down at Stiles completely face blank.

“In the end It always wins.” The Nogitsune stepped down from the Nameton and began walking away. “What is It?”

“What the hell are you….”

A loud boom shook the room almost making Stiles fall off the stump. The spirit continued to walk away. Dark mist began to fill the room with each step the Nogitsune took.

“Strength, speed, and determination. None of that matters. In the end It always wins. What is It?”

“Get back here!” Stiles stepped off the stump and almost slipped. He looked down and saw all the Go stones. They were arranged in the shape of wings.

“STILES!”

Stiles’ head shot up and his eyes widened.

“Scott? SCOTT!” he screamed desperately. The creature spoke again and its voice was loud and clear above the chaos around them.

“Remember Stiles. We are connected and the dead are dust and you will sweep it all away. You will bring the balance.” Another boom and the room shook with it. Still the spirit kept walking and room grew darker and darker.

“WAKE UP, STILES!”

“DAD!”

“Strength, speed, and determination. None of that matters. In the end It always wins. What is It!?”

“TIME!” Stiles sat up screaming the answer. His eyes looked around the room wildly.

“Stiles, it’s okay. You’re alright.” He saw his father beside him. The sheriff’s familiar comfortable grip was on his shoulders, centering him. Stiles tried to calm his breathing as he looked into faces of his surviving friends.

Scott, Kira, Derek, Lydia, and Parrish.

Stiles pulled his father into a tight hug and let out a sound that was half sob half sigh. He was on the verge of tears he was so happy. They were out. Someone woke them up.

“Is he okay?”

Stiles looked up and finally noticed the other occupants in the room. A man in a deputy’s uniform and the one that was keeping them on ice were watching him. He remembered that asshole, Jenner…..and he looked like he was about to piss himself. Pale brown eyes moved back to the former.

“Who are you?” Stiles croaked, voice rough from his screams.

“Rick Grimes,” the deputy said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long folks. I'm writing this fic like crazy but my beta and I are having some issues syncing up. I think we got stuff straightened out now. I like to hand write then type. It's a pain but I like pen to paper.
> 
> Thanks for the support and kudos for this fic and I hope that I can live up to your expectations.

Chapter 1

 

 

 

“What did you do to those people?” Rick demanded following Jenner into his private office.

 

“The world was ending,” the scientist explained sitting down. “We had to do whatever necessary to try and stop the disease.”

 

“So we just start experimenting on humans when the world goes to shit?” Rick snapped.

 

“You saw what was out there. We were doing the best we could to put an end to all that! They were _immune_. The only ones on the planet that we found that were. We couldn’t _not_ do anything!” Jenner yelled.  “After everyone… Being the last one… I had no choice but to cross the line and do whatever  _I_ could with the time I had.”

 

Rick stared at the man in front of him. Hours ago he was a savior but now he was looking like one of the monsters. One that that experimented on children. Tortured them.

 

“So? Did ya’ find it? A cure. A solution.” Jenner couldn’t hold his piercing gaze. “I hope it was all worth your humanity.” The lawman turned and left the office slamming the door behind him. The scientist looked down at a framed photo and sighed. It was almost time.

 

 

Scott and Derek were able to find the room that had their personal effects. All modesty was forgotten as the group rushed to shed the medical scrubs and put on their own clothing. Stiles being the most weakened of the group, was seated on a chair in the rear of the room where he would be the most protected. It was annoying but Stiles put up with it because he didn’t have the energy to protest.

 

“Dad just get dressed first. I can wait,” Stiles protested as his father began tugging at the medical scrubs. He stopped as he ran his hands over the damage Jenner and the others left on his son’s forearms. Bruises, punctures from blood draws, and wounds from skin grafts littered the pale skin. The poor kid looked anorexic and deathly pale.  His son looked like he’d been given first class treatment at the Josef Mengele Spa.

 

John’s eyes began to glow Alpha red and a deep growl began to rumble through him as his rage began to take hold of him. The whole room grew still as everyone looked at the Alpha. All the werewolves eyes were glowing in response. Scotts red eyes looked on worried.

 

“Dad!” Stiles cried grabbing the man’s face. He had to get his father’s mind back in the game and off things he couldn’t change. An enraged Alpha was a problem they didn’t need. Familiar blue chased away the red and John looked his son in the eyes. “The faster you get dressed, the faster you can help me. Then we can get the hell out of here.” The older man looked like he wanted to argue.

 

“I got it, Sheriff Stilinski,” Derek said stepping forward with Stiles clothes on his arm. John looked back at the werewolf for a moment. _He_ was supposed to be the one to take care of his son. That was how it worked. “Sir, please. We don’t have much time.” The Sheriff nodded with a sigh and stepped reluctantly away from Stiles to get dressed.

 

Stiles gave the stoic werewolf a grateful smile.

 

“You got dressed fast,” he muttered as Derek knelt in front of him.

 

“Habit,” he said grabbing the scrub top. With a swift motion he tore the offending fabric in half and threw the tatters away. Stiles didn’t even have the energy to be surprised. If he had the strength he would have done the same thing and set them on fire for good measure. He was just glad his father was too busy to see how badly his ribs were showing. Derek wouldn’t say anything because he just wasn’t that kind of guy. While Derek dressed him Stiles finally noticed a heavy bandage wrapped around his left hand. They were thick and left no skin exposed. Not even his fingertips. Seriously? What had the mad scientist done to him now?

 

Stiles was tying his shoes when there was a knock at the door. His father and Parrish turned automatic weapons drawn. Where did they… Stiles looked around and saw other weapons lying around the storeroom. Oh. Dr. Nutso had been busy. The door slowly opened to reveal Rick Grimes standing there with both hands raised.

 

“I’m not armed. I just wanted to make sure you folks were okay.”

 

“Okay?” John snapped incredulously. “That fucker tortured my son. We’re getting out of here.”

 

“No argument there. I’m not here to hurt anyone. Please lower your weapons,” Rick requested calmly. The deputy didn’t back down in the face of two deadly weapons aimed directly at his head. He was calm and didn’t even sweat. Rick was simply waiting. Well Stiles wasn’t a patient person.

 

“Dad,” Stiles called out when it looked like John was about to refuse or shoot him. “He’s not one of them. Put the guns down.”

 

“Seriously, put them away boys,” Lydia said shoving on her shoes. “We have better things to be doing with our time.” With a huff the two men lowered their weapons and Rick lowered his hands in response. He hesitantly stepped inside.

 

“Sheriff John Stilinski of Beacon County,” he said putting his hand out.

 

“Deputy for Kings County. Good to meet you, sir,” he replied shaking his hand. Rick looked the group over and felt his heart break again. Most of them were teenagers. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

 

“If you're the one that got that psycho to take us off ice, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Lydia announced tying her hair back.

 

“Yeah thanks for that,” Kira said nervously buckling her belt.

 

“How did you find us?” Scott asked.

 

“Jenner said something about the power going out. So we split up looking for the generator room. I found you guys.”

 

“Wait!” Stiles interrupted as his eyes widened in dread. “The power’s going out?”

 

“Crap,” John groaned running a hand down his face.

 

“What? What happens when it runs out?”

 

“Nothing good,” Stiles replied.

 

“Guys! Grab all the guns and anything you think we may need,” John ordered. Everyone, besides Stiles, did as they were told and shoved all they could find into the duffels that previously held their personal effects.

 

“Wait! What happens?” Lydia knowing the least about guns but the most about the situation they now found themselves turned to the deputy deciding a quick lesson was in order.

 

“The CDC houses various strains of organisms that could wipe out humanity. Each facility was built with a failsafe for containment in the event of the worst case scenario. Terrorist attack for example and so on. When the power goes out the place self-destructs in order to keep it all contained,” she explained matter of factly.

 

“So if you want to live get your group and meet us in the main control room so we can open the main doors,” John said handing a full duffel bag to Derek.

 

“How much time?” Stiles asked as memories of that damned riddle sent chills down his spine.

 

“Last I saw was fifty minutes. That was ten minutes ago.”

 

“Did this place have a cafeteria or something?” Parrish asked slinging one of the bags over his shoulder.

 

Rick nodded.

 

“Scott, Parrish go see what you can scavenge and get topside. Lydia go with them. Stiles…”

 

“I’m staying with you, Dad,” the younger Stilinski said struggling to stand on weakened legs.

 

“Son…”

 

“Period.”

 

“I’ll carry him, sir,” Derek offered. John nodded tersly.

 

“You all know what you have to do. Now move it people. You…” The Sheriff turned to Rick. “… lead me to the main control room. We’ll warn your people as we go.”

 

Stiles was swept up in Derek’s arms and they all hurried out of the room.

 

“People are going to talk,” Stiles joked. His transports eyes rolled.

 

“Only you would joke when we’re about to be blown up,” Derek muttered following after John and Rick.

 

“It’s laugh or cry buddy. Laugh or cry.”

 

 

Stiles had to hand it to Rick’s crew. They really knew how to hustle and get their shit together fast. Derek sat Stiles at one of the work stations while his father, Rick, and some other muscled up dude shouted and threatened Jenner to open the shutter doors above ground. Stiles wasn’t much for intimidation in his state. He could barely stand let alone intimidate a rabbit. So with nothing better to do he started removing the bandages wrapped around his hand. Jeeze how many layers did that asshole put on him? The last bit of gauze was pulled off when he noticed Jenner walking towards the workstation he was at. There was a card reader right in front of him with a keypad. Oh hell no!

 

Stiles reached out with his newly unwrapped hand and grabbed Jenner’s just as he was about to scan an ID card. The scientist looked at him with wide eyed horror for a split second before his body seized violently. Stiles released his hand as the scientist fell to the floor. Dead.

 

The room became eerily quiet as all attention was now on Stiles as he stared at his hand in terror. His eyes moved to Jenner’s lifeless body. He’d taken another life. More blood was on his hands. Another face flashed thorough his mind. Blood pouring out of Donovan’s mouth as he watched him. Stiles could see the blood lust in the other young man’s eyes even though he was impaled on a pole and about to breathe his last.

 

Stiles’ eyes focused back on his hand. There was a large mark on it, taking up the entirety of his palm. Almost a brand but colored black. Even through shocked stupor his mind supplied the fact that it was the Japanese kanji for shi. Death.

 

The sound of a shotgun being pumped shook Stiles out of his stupor. He looked up to see Mr. Steroids from Rick’s group pointing the weapon at him. It seemed the only reason he hadn’t fired was because he had two other guns pointed at his own head. Stiles’ father’s and Rick’s. The man was lucky John hadn’t just ripped his throat out. With his teeth. Derek slowly moved to stand in front of Stiles to block any shot.

 

While everyone was distracted, Stiles wrapped his hand back up making sure none of the skin was exposed.

 

“Shane, put it down,” Rick ordered in a low voice.

 

“That kid… thing…”

 

“Is my son.” John’s voice was a little deeper from the effort it took him to keep his wolf in check.  “I will not hesitate again to blow your fucking head off if you _do not lower that gun_.” Shane scowled at John before lowering his weapon. Rick then ripped it out of his hand.

 

“Let’s all get topside.” John ordered rushing to Stiles and lifting him in his arms. Reflexively, Stiles shoved his bandaged hand into his pocket. He couldn’t be too sure but he wasn’t going to risk anyone’s life on carelessness.

 

 

“I’m staying,” a slender black woman said looking imploringly at Rick. “I can’t go out there again.”

 

The deputy hesitated like he wanted to argue but then nodded understandingly. He went to her, hugged her sadly, then walked back to the exit of the control room.  

 

“Andrea no!”

 

Everyone else turned to the entrance and saw a blonde woman walk determinedly back into the room followed by an elderly man in a Hawaiian shirt. His voice begged her to change her mind.

 

“Suicide isn’t the answer!” He moved to stand over her as she sat resolutely on the floor next to a work station.  

 

“Dale, I’m done. I can’t do it anymore. There’s no point. There’s nothing left,” she snapped.

 

“Go! I’ll meet you up there!” Dale waved them out. The five of them hurried to the elevator. Stiles could feel the weight of Shane’s stare the entire ride.

 

“Keep that freak away from Lori and Carl,” he whispered to Rick. It only earned him a triple-strength glare from Rick, John, and Derek. Stiles just closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the elevator moving wishing the world would just go away.

 

Once topside they found that the shutters were still down but one of the windows had been blown open. Most likely Lydia’s doing. They rushed out to see Kira dispatching the zombies with her katana and Scott with a bat. Things always did come in handy. Lydia and Parrish were loading their bags into a van.

 

“Forget the walkers! Get in the RV!” Rick shouted. Walkers? Is that what they were calling the zombies? They ran for the vehicle dodging the “walkers”. In all the panic Stiles ignored the burning sensation in his left hand every time they came near one. Derek, John, and Rick boarded the RV and Stiles was put on the bed in the rear of the vehicle. There was a lot of shouting but Stiles didn’t hear any of it. He didn’t even hear the sound of the building exploding and rubble falling to the ground as fire consumed everything. John was at his side cupping his face to force him to look at him.

 

“Stiles, talk to me. Are you okay?” he asked as the RV started moving.

 

“I killed someone today, Dad.” Stiles’ voice was slurred. John’s face twisted with grief for his son’s pain as he drew him into his arms and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

 

For the first time in Stiles’ life he was still. He just sat on the bed and let the events in the control room run through his head over and over. In the back of his mind he was aware they had been driving for a while. At some point the elderly man approached their group with offerings of bottled water and cheese crackers. He had a small moment of, “Oh. He made it out.”

 

Derek ate his meal in silence, blocking the view of Stiles and his father from the others in the RV. Everyone except Rick kept shooting them nervous glances and whispering amongst themselves speculating about who they were and if they were dangerous.

 

“Stiles, you need to hydrate. Eat. Who knows how long we were in there,” John said to his son who continued to stare at his hand listlessly. With a frustrated sigh he took hold of his son’s face and made him look at him. “Stiles. Talk to me.”

 

“I _killed_ him, Dad,” Stiles said quietly.

 

“It was an accident.” The teen didn’t respond. John wasn’t going to let his son withdraw into himself over an asshole like Jenner. He reached out and took hold of Stiles’ bandaged hand.

 

“Dad! NO!” The young man tried to pull his hand away but John held on tightly. He had to show his son that he wasn’t afraid.

 

“ _Look at me_!” John ordered sternly his eyes flashing red briefly. Stiles stopped struggling and looked into his father’s steady gaze. “Jenner _wanted_ to die. He was going to take a lot of innocent people with him. You know that.”

 

“Yes but…”

 

“Tell me,” John interrupted before his son could continue. “What were you thinking? In that moment before you grabbed his hand what was going through your head?”

 

“He was about to make the situation worse by activating that keypad,” Stiles replied in that quiet voice John hated hearing from his son.

 

“Then you probably stopped him from killing us all or trapping us in there with him. You _saved_ us, Son,” John insisted. “It was self-defense and still and accident. You have _nothing_ to be sorry about.”

 

“I killed someone! _Again_ , Dad.”

 

“And that is something I will help you get through. But I can’t help you if you shut me out. Understand?”

 

Stiles nodded shakily.

 

“Okay. You’re going to drink all this water and eat or I’ll tell Derek to hold your mouth open while I feed you baby bird style.”

 

Stiles’ face contorted into an epic EWWW expression.

 

“I will, too,” the werewolf chimed in not looking back.

 

“Fine,” the younger gave in with a grossed out pout.

 

Stiles tucked into his meager meal under both John and Derek’s watchful eyes. He did feel a bit better. A little stronger than before but he knew he was going to need protein to replenish all the blood Jenner took from him. The damned vampire. One of the guys could probably hunt down a deer or something when they got to a more wooded area. By the time Stiles finished all the water the RV came to a stop. He looked around Derek’s large body to look at the driver.

 

“We have to scavenge for some more fuel,” Rick said getting out of the seat. He moved to the rear to meet a wall of muscle in the form of Derek Hale and John Stilinski. “Maybe we could have a calm discussion about what happens from here.” The three stared at each other not saying anything while the rest of the RV’s occupants watched on. The teenager rolled his eyes. All they needed was some cheesy western music and a tumble weed to roll by. It didn’t take long for Stiles to get fed up with the tension. The thin young man elbowed his way through the two men in front of him and gave a Rick a weak smile. That took more out of him that he thought it would.

 

“Hi. I’m Stiles. Thanks for the eats,” he gasped.

 

The man smiled back with kind blue eyes that reminded him very much of his father.

 

“It was the least we could do after what ya’ did for us,” Rick said. The blonde woman sitting at the table huffed drawing the elderly man’s reproachful glare.

 

“What would really be great right now is some fresh air,” Stiles said stepping forward only to falter and begin falling forward. Rick caught him before his other self-appointed body guards could.

 

“Well I’m happy to deliver,” Rick said helping him out of the RV. The moment he and Rick stepped foot outside Scott and Kira were right there.

 

“Stiles! Are you okay?” the werewolf asked helping Rick lead him to over to a picnic table.

 

“I’m good buddy,” he replied looking around the park they were stopped at. “Jenner just got a little too blood happy.”

 

“I wish I could have…”

 

“It’s over Scott,” Stiles said sharply not wanting to remember he had unwittingly taken his own vengeance.

 

“Stiles!” He looked over to see Lydia rushing over with a bottle of orange juice. She sat beside him. She was really the only one amongst them that knew what Jenner had done to him as he had used her as a bargaining chip to keep him docile throughout his experiments. “Drink this. It’ll help with the weakness.”

 

Stiles sipped the juice as everyone slowly converged on the picnic table. Team Stilinski was on one side while Team Grimes stood on the other side and Stiles was smack dab in the middle. Awkward.

 

“So you mind explaining why you people were in there,” Shane growled glaring directly at Stiles. Stiles glared back refusing to be intimidated. It didn’t escape the teen’s attention the bastard had stressed the word “people” like he was spitting out something distasteful.

 

“They were holding us prisoner because we were immune to the outbreak,” John said tersely. “We don’t know you people well enough to divulge any further information.”

 

“Fair enough,” Rick said in a calm voice trying to keep the fragile peace.  Shane nodded pursing his lips.

 

“Fine. That’s fine. But way I see it you owe us,” he said. “We get the guns and food you scavenged.”

 

Team Stilinski erupted.

 

“Not gonna happen.”

 

“Finders keepers, man!”

 

“I’d like to see you try and take it.”

 

All the posturing and arguing giving Stiles a headache and making him nauseated. He saw a little girl eyeing his OJ hungrily. With a secret smirk he slid it over the table to her. His reward was a big bright smile as she took the bottle and drank hungrily. She offered some to a boy next to her but the woman holding him pulled him away. The girl looked confused at what Stiles reasoned was her mother who urged her to finish the drink though the other woman glared. The grey haired woman gave him a grateful smile and mouthed a “thank you.” Stiles nodded.

 

The teen looked on as the two groups argued and felt like walking away but, being weakened, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Stiles sighed and looked away from the group hoping to tune out the noise. He noticed a lone man standing by a pick up watching him through narrowed eyes. If Stiles had to pick a word to describe him it would have been “untamed.” He had shaggy brown hair and a rough look on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest and Stiles eyes nearly fell out of his head as they ran over the defined muscles on those limbs. That, he decided, should be illegal.

 

“Hey!” Rick shouted above the arguing trying to get them all to quiet down. It didn’t work. Stiles rolled his eyes before taking a deep breath and releasing a loud whistle that shocked everyone into silence.

 

“You do remember those things are drawn by sound, right?” Stiles asked with a raised eye brow. As if on cue, a walker came staggering out of the men’s public restroom.

 

“I got it,” Kira said going after the threat with Scott as her back up.

 

“Guys, I don’t see why we can’t just join up,” Stiles said tiredly. “Doesn’t anyone remember there is strength in numbers?” Stiles knew his group would back him on this because he was the one, next to Lydia, that usually saw reason. A small wave a dizziness washed over him. He cursed Jenner and just wanted to lay down and sleep for a week.

 

“We don’t even know these people,” glaring woman argued. “Do you _really_ want them around our kids?”

 

“Lori,” Rick began. “They warned us of the danger. They could have just left us behind. They aren’t a threat.”

 

“Are you willing to gamble Carl and Sophia on that?” Shane growled.

 

If Stiles wasn’t certain it would only make him feel worse he’d bang his head on the table. Why was this Guy so fucking stupid? Maybe they should have left him in that building and done the world a favor.

 

“I am,” the thin grey-haired meek looking woman said stepping forward with OJ girl wrapped in her arms. “Sophia and I… all of you would have died if they hadn’t warned us. We _owe_ them.”

 

“I have no reason not to trust them,” Dale pipped up.

 

“They got my vote,” a black man said.

 

“I really couldn’t care less,” the suicidal blonde said going back to the RV. Stiles could tell she was going to be a barrel of laughs.

 

The little boy slipped out out of his mother’s grip and stood in front of John.

 

“Carl get back here!” she ordered but he ignored her. The elder Stilinksi knelt down to the boy’s level.

 

“You’re a Sheriff right? Or you were?” The boy asked with wide-eyed earnestness.

 

“That’s right. Was in the Army too.” John grinned lop-sidedly.

 

“You just want to protect people? Like my Dad,” he asked. That earned a smile from both men and a scowl from Lori and Shane.

 

“It’s what I swore to do.”

 

“Do you think you could help my Dad out? He can’t do all this all on his own,” Carl said tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt, making Stiles break out into a grin of his own. Stiles smiled.

 

_Out of the mouth of babes._

 

John put a hand on Carl’s shoulder.

 

“Sure thing, kid.” The boy smiled widely.

 

With that it was decided. They were a group. A new Pack even if half of them didn’t know it. In time they would. Trust would have to be earned first. Rick and John shook hands on it…. At Carl’s insistence.  

 

The pair began organizing scavenging groups for fuel. Stiles felt pretty worthless being left behind but he could barely walk. He had Lydia, Carol, Dale, and the kids to keep him company. Before everyone took off the man with the most illegal pair of arms in the country, approached him and tossed him a big piece of venison jerky.

 

“Looking pretty grey, kid. Eat up.”

 

Before Stiles could thank him, the man turned away and joined his assigned group. The young man started after him awed. Not because of his perceptiveness or kindness. No. Stiles eyes were glued to a pair of familiar wings sewn on to the back of the man’s leather vest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the first official chapter.  
> So yeah... It's gonna take a long while to get to that Stiles/Daryl payoff. And surprise for werewolf Daddy Stilinkski. I had to. I have my reasons that will be clear in the future. Cookies for people that guess the pairings I have in mind. Chapter 2 is on the way folks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This shit's gonna have nuts in it."

  


Chapter 2

 

 

Apparently they were headed for Fort Benning. Where ever the Hell that was. Stiles was still trying to figure out how they ended up in freaking Georgia in the first place. Lydia suggested there was probably a lead scientist at the facility and they ended up with Jenner after Uber Brain bit the big one. It was obvious to them that Mr. Lonesome didn’t fit that category. He could barely do a blood draw without blowing one of his victim’s veins. Stiles counted himself lucky that he hadn’t died of an air embolism.

 

The scavenging groups returned with enough gas to get them to their destination and a little further if need be. A hot meal awaited them, made with what was scavenged from the CDC. The California contingent, headed by his father, refused to eat until Stiles ‘cleaned his plate’. He tried to hold out but his Dad turned Rick and the kids into Captain Guilt and his puppy-eyed minions. He was sunk. John had filled the former deputy in on how low Stiles’ blood volume was while they had been out searching for fuel. The snitch.

 

Derek returned with Daryl Can’t-stick-around-for-a-damn-thank-you Dixon and T-dog, more fuel and other supplies in tow. Derek had spotted a sporting goods store that was practically untouched though the guns and ammo had been raided long before. He surprised Stiles with a brand new aluminum baseball bat and a wicked sharp hunting knife. Daryl was toting some duffel bags full of protein bars and sports drinks. He tossed a bar at Stiles along with a black leather glove for his left hand.

 

“Eyebrows said you needed it,” he said once again not stopping for Stiles to say anything. The teen stared flatly after him then silently flailed what could be interpreted as a half thanks half obscene gesture. One day he was just gonna trip him so he’d have a chance to get a word out. He was worse than Sourwolf back in the day. The teen looked away to see that his father was eyeing him then the glove expectantly. Stiles gave into the silent command with a roll of his eyes and unwrapped his hand. He pointedly ignored the mark on his palm and tugged the glove into place then fastened the cuff. He flexed his hand in the genuine leather motorcycle glove that fit perfectly and creaked like only high quality cured hide could. Damn! A pair of these suckers probably would have cost a ton back in the day. The heat would be a pain in the ass but he’d endure it to keep everyone safe. Plus points for looking AWESOME.

 

“Eat up, kiddo,” John said motioning to the food. “You need all the calories you can get.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Stiles sighed tearing into the crinkly wrapper.

 

 

They drove two days away from Atlanta with Stiles sequestered in the last seat of T-Dog’s van. His exciting itinerary consisted of sleeping, eating, and doing his personal business when needed. Stiles was beginning lose his damn mind! The familiar sound of a radiator hose going to hell was like being awoken by angels from on high singing the Hallelujah Chorus. One more moment in that white dream room would have been enough to send him over the edge to Camp CooCoo for Fucking Cocoa Puffs. _Mmmm. Chocolate._ He felt the van slowing to a halt so he eagerly sat up to see what the deal was and if it would get him out of his mobile prison. The highway was blocked on both sides by countless cars and you didn’t need to be a werewolf to scent the overabundance of death in the air.

 

“Who’s radiator died?” Stiles asked trying to get a better view of their caravan.

 

“Looks like Dale’s,” the man replied throwing the vehicle in park. “Surprised it lasted this long with all the duct tape he’s got on it.”

 

“Do not underestimate the power of duct tape T. It is a universal tool,” Stiles said sagely. ‘Like Shane’ he added mentally. The black man chuckled.

 

 John was seated beside him and examining the area.

 

“Let’s go see what’s happening,” he said opening the van doors.

 

‘YES!’ Stiles cheered silently. He waited until his father had turned away and punched the air in celebration.

 

“You do realize I can smell the excitement on you,” John muttered low enough for only his son to hear.

 

“Sorry?” Stiles chuckled nervously.

 

John rolled his eyes and got out of the vehicle.

 

Two day’s sleep with the forced meals had done Stiles good. He wasn’t up to snuff but better than he had been. He was finally able to get out of the van and walk to the RV _all on his own_. That was gold freaking star worthy. That didn’t stop everyone from hovering around him to make sure he didn’t fall on his face though. All this mother henning was really starting to piss him off.

 

“Was that your radiator hose, Dale?” Stiles called out as the elderly man stepped off the RV.

 

“Yup. And I’ve said it a million times. Dead in the water.”

 

“Well, I can probably find you a replacement somewhere in this mess,” Stiles said trying very hard not to look at Daryl who was already rummaging through one of the cars.

 

“Nah. Glenn and I can handle it,” Dale replied. “Kid needs to learn.” He watched Dale pull Glenn in front of the RV. The former pizza-guy nervously avoided the younger man’s accusatory gaze. Et tu, Glen? Et tu?

 

 Curses! The old man was in on the whole Stiles mother henning thing too. He barely resisted shaking a fist dramatically heavenward.

 

John joined Rick by the front of the RV to talk. Stratagize. Whatever it was those two crazy party animals did now-a-days.

 

“We can siphon some more fuel from these cars,” T-Dog suggested in an obvious attempt to appease.

 

“There’s probably some more food here too,” Derek proposed. Taking a subtle sniff of the air only to rub his nose and barely hold back a sneeze when all he got was decay.

 

“Guys. This is a graveyard,” Lori said reproachfully. Everyone looked at her. Lydia rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

 

“We aren’t defiling the corpses, Lori. Get over it,” the redhead snapped flipping her hair over one shoulder then going for one of the cars. “Unless that’s your thing. If so,” she paused a moment, one hand resting on a door handle as she squinted at the older woman, “…sick!” A glare in reply was all she received as she opened the door and popped the truck.

 

“Stiles!” John called as Rick waved him over. He made his way over to the two forcibly retired lawmen. “You’re on gas detail with T and Daryl.”

 

“Sure you want me out of your sight?” Stiles snarked lightly. “I might get a stubbed toe or…le gasp… a mosquito bite!”

 

“Keep it up brat…”

 

“Well you could look through the cars with Carol, Lydia, and _Lori_ if you want,” Rick offered with a knowing smile that was all teeth. The young man paled. He did _not_ want to get caught in _that_ mess. Lydia and Lori were not…meshing well…to say the least. The spitfire was calling the brunette on all her bullshit and said woman didn’t like her alpha bitch-ness being questioned or challenged. Rick and Jordan were having a hell of time keeping Lori from going for Lydia’s throat and the latter ending the other woman outright. Stiles was in no condition to deal with that. He didn’t think he’d ever be.

 

“I’m good with getting the gas. Perfect with it,” he said quickly as he turned with a stumble to walk to his designated group. “See this? This is me being all kinds of ok with the whole gas hunting…thing.”

 

“Then chop chop, Twinkle Toes,” Daryl said shoving an empty gas canister and hose in his hands as the other passed him. “We ain’t got all day.”

 

 Stiles fumbled with the items a moment before he got a decent grip on them. He was beet red with embarrassment which only got worse when he looked back at his father and Rick. Both men were watching him with highly amused expressions. With great effort he resisted the urge to flip them both off and followed after Daryl and T-Dog.

 

T showed him how to siphon gas and Stiles listened patiently even though he knew perfectly well how to do it and better. Jackson never did figure out how is cherished car was going through gas so quickly.  Ah…good times.

 

Daryl popped open a few gas covers for him and let him get to work. Soon the young man had a full container and a shit eating grin.

 

“Who’da thunk the Sheriff’s son was a lil’ delinquent,” Daryl said eyeing him as he screwed the cap on the canister.

 

“My dad, best friend, anyone in town really. I’m a man of many talents,” Stiles replied with a smirk and a comic waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll go get another empty.” He wiped the heavy sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

 

“What yer’ gonna do is git yerself killed wearing clothes like that,” Daryl said. Stiles shrugged smoothing down his red flannel.

 

“This is a Stiles classic. Not gonna let the apocalypse cramp my style,” he replied grabbing the gas can. He didn’t make it two steps before he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and pulled back.

 

“Damn stubborn brat.”

 

“Hey!” The shirt in question was being pulled off him before he knew what was happening.

 

“Heat stroke‘s gonna lay ya up again and then…” Daryl froze when he saw the large bruises, healing cuts and ligature marks around his wrist on the one arm he was able to get out of the shirt. “The _fuck_ …” Stiles used his shock to jerk free and pull his shirt back on.

 

“ _Never_ do that again,” Stiles snarled in the redneck’s face then grabbed the gas canister and stalking away.

 

Daryl watched the young man feeling equal parts guilty and helpless. He himself didn’t like being touched so why had he grabbed the kid like that? He gave himself a mental shake. Why the fuck did he even care? The huntsman turned away and kicked the car’s flattened tire. Stupid fuckin’ kid.

 

 

Rick was looking over the map with John. This shit was going to set them way back. Dale had mentioned a bypass Glenn had found. It would add a day to their trip but there was no getting through this mess. For the time being they needed to plan out a safe place to camp before they lost anymore daylight. John had his people, with the exceptions of Stiles and Lydia, watching their perimeter. It definitely made for some breathing room. Rick had to admit the older man was an excellent strategist. He had no problem imagining the former Sheriff being great at his job before the shit happened. His deputies no doubt had unwavering faith in him. The proof was there for anyone to see in his last remaining subordinate, a dedicated young man who followed his leader’s every order without question and looked at him with the utmost respect. Hell his whole group did. That was the kind of man Rick aspired to be. It was nice to have a living example in front of him.

 

“We could camp here, create a perimeter with the cars,” John said eyes focused on the map spread out over the hood of a classic mustang. Rick nodded in agreement.

 

“Good thing we have more people to keep watch. It will make for some better sleep.” Rick looked up and surveyed the vehicles around them. His gaze paused as he took in the tail end of the Stiles and Daryl situation. Brows hit hairline as the two parted abruptly.

 

“We may be able to switch out for more fuel efficient cars. It would…” John’s voice tapered off as he caught sight of Stiles storming toward the RV.  “Hey kid…”

 

“Stupid muscly crossbow toting jerkwad.”

 

The heavily sweating youth dropped the gas canister next to a bewildered Glenn and Dale then kept walking cursing under his breath. John started after his son but Rick had his hand on his shoulder before he could move.

 

“Daryl can be a little…abrupt. I’ll go smooth it over,” Rick said.

 

“You trying to get practice on my kid?” John chuckled.

 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Rick said with a wink. The deputy went after the angry teen. He found Stiles sitting on the tailgate of a truck glaring at the stretch of congested highway before him. A bottle of water was placed next to the young man as a peace offering. Rick quietly leaned against the truck and let the silence sit for a moment.

 

“You know…” he began.  “The first time I met Daryl Dixon, he tried to kill me.”

 

“Not surprising,” Stiles grumbled accepting the water with a grateful nod. He took a long drink before holding it out to Rick. The older man took the bottle.

 

“I thought, ‘Here’s a man I probably would have locked up not too long ago,’” he said before taking a long swallow. “After being around him a while I kind of understand him a bit better.” Dark brows drew together in a thoughtful frown as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “He doesn’t…he’s not really, I guess you can say, used to people. Social norms aren’t his _normal_. He just wasn’t raised that way I suppose. He seems to have pretty much raised himself… and did most of it in the forest. His mind is wired for survival not what he would think are…frivolities.” He offered the bottle back which was taken without response. “Then here comes this teenager wearing a _flannel shirt_ in the Georgia heat. Sun that would burn the hide off ya. That don’t make sense to him and he probably figure the kid don’t understand the dangers of heat stroke and dehydration.”

 

“I more than know the facts about it. I did a paper on both in geography in middle school. I don’t have any of the symptoms. As long as I keep sweating I’m good,” Stiles muttered drinking the rest of the bottle.

 

Rick blinked several times, his mouth opening and closing as if he struggled to get out a question he didn’t know if he wanted answered.

 

“Geogra……? Never mind.” Rick ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. What about anemia?” Stiles didn’t respond. “That’s not somethin’ you just bounce back from in two days. Combined with all this, you gotta take care.”

 

“Bastard should have kept his hands to himself.” Stiles growled through clenched teeth.

 

“Had a feelin’ that’s what happened.” The silence hung heavy between them. “I remember what yer arms looked like when ya woke up and I understand why you’re wearin’ the shirt but I can lend you something thinner?” For a moment Stiles looked like he was about to agree when he suddenly frowned. His eyes narrowed on something. “Stiles?” Slowly the young man stood up on the tailgate still staring at whatever caught his attention in the distance. Curious, Rick looked in the same direction. He saw movement but couldn’t make out what it was. He raised his rifle and looked through the scope. A walker stumbled through the mess of cars.

 

Quietly he checked the chamber to see if there was a round ready.

 

“Rick…” Stiles’ voice was barely a whisper.

 

The deputy steadied the weapon and retook his aim. He had centered his shot when he saw it. Another walker. Then another…and another.

 

“Rick, no.” Stiles said quietly before he reached out and forced the gun down. Light blue eyes met terrified whiskey. “There are too many. We gotta get everyone under cover. _Now!_ ”

 

As one the pair hurried back to the main group as silently as possible. Stiles got to Scott and Kira who were watching one side of the perimeter.

 

“Scott, buddy, get your ass under a car now. We have a ton of fucking zombies heading right for us.”

 

“We can take ‘em,” Kira said reaching for her kitana with her usual gung-ho attitude.

 

“Not this many, Slice-N-Dice. Trust me. Just get under a fucking car and stay quiet.”

 

Scott nodded trusting his friend. He grabbed his girlfriend’s wrist and pulled her to the interstate and did has he was told.

 

With that taken care of Stiles ran to the other side to warn Derek and Parrish. They didn’t question him and moved to do exactly as he instructed. Stiles paused for a brief second to catch a quick breath then kept running. He had to get to Daryl and T. There was no way Rick was going to have enough time to warn them and get himself safe. The worst part was Stiles really didn’t see T fitting under any of these cars.

 

“Just saying…” T said moving to the next car. “Let the kid learn for himself. That sun’s gonna knock him right on his…”

 

“Just siphon the damn gas,” Daryl grumbled popped another gas cover. The black man shook his head and got to work.

 

“Guys!” a familiar voice quietly called out. They turned and saw Stiles running up. He was red as a lobster and sweating buckets. His breathing was rapid even though he was trying to catch his breath. Crap. “Zombie horde coming this way. Hide.”

 

“I can handle a couple of walkers,” Daryl scoffed lifting up his crossbow. Stiles growled and weakly pushed him back when he stepped forward.

 

“Horde, dude. I’m talking football stadium amount of n-not happening. S-so f-fucking…” All the air rushed out of Stiles before his eyes rolled back in his head. Daryl caught him before he could hit the pavement.

 

“Oh shit! The string bean wasn’t fucking around,” T said ducking down. Daryl looked up and saw the “Horde” Stiles had been talking about.

 

“Fuck.” Daryl turned and ducked behind and overturned truck. The kid had to pick now to pass out. Great. He spotted a car he could safely tuck the kid under moved like he had a fire under his ass.

 

 

John barely breathed while the mass of snarling dead passed by him. He looked around as much as his position allowed. Rick was directly across from him making minute motions to let the children who were nearby know to be as quiet as possible. The man’s wife, Lori, was trying to sooth a terrified Carol. Ahead of him he saw Scott and Kira still as statues under a couple of other vehicles. He was certain Derek and Parrish were doing the same. His thoughts shorted out for a moment. Where was Stiles? Where was his boy?! His wolf growled angrily and wanted to tear through the threat to get to his son but he reigned it in. There was no way to find his scent with so many rotting corpses walking around.

 

Werewolf or not that kid was going to give him a heart attack long before any walker got to him. John took a quiet measured breath. It would do no good to go into panic mode now. One false move and everyone would die. Rick looked over at him and John made sure that he saw a strong calm face even though his heart was trying to beat him to death. He just had to remember that his son is one of the smartest, most resourceful people anyone could ever meet.

 

Stiles is a survivor.

 

 

One thing about being kidnapped so often, it teaches you a few things. For example, if you wake up somewhere unfamiliar you don’t do something stupid like announce you’re awake by sitting up gasping frantically like in the movies. Not that Stiles would probably be seeing a movie any time soon. No his precious Scarlett Johansen was probably a walker/zombie right now…or food for one. Who knows? He wept for his precious Chris Evans.  But that wasn’t the point. When Stiles woke to the sound of snarls and dragging feet he remained as still as he possibly could. He slowly opened his eyes to see the under carriage of a car inches from his face.

 

Okaaaay. The last thing he remembered was trying to convince that hard headed jack ass to hide. Looks like he may have listened. The young man scowled in discomfort and confusion as he noticed that his gloved hand was hot, almost burning, like that time he had grabbed the handle of a heated cast iron skillet without using a potholder. His mind clicked back to the last time this had happened. Vague memories of the flight from the CDC came to him. Oh crap. Oh CRAP! Stiles turned his head from side to side and saw feet dragging along the asphalt. Turning his head to face forward he clenched his eyes shut in frustration and fear. He was surrounded. Freaking fabulous!

 

_“You never noticed, did you?”_

 

Stiles’ eyes snapped back open and he glared at the cars under workings like they personally offended him.

 

_“The dead never went near you.”_

 

Long slender hands slowly went to the hunting knife on his belt.

 

_“They never noticed you.”_

 

His hand gripped it tight and slowly drew it from its sheath.

 

_“Didn’t you ever wonder why?”_

 

The walker traffic wasn’t so heavy on the grassy side of the car.

 

_“You’re a smart guy, Stiles.”_

 

The young man didn’t _feel_ very smart as he slowly slid from underneath the car. He stayed low to the ground not seeing any walkers in front or behind him. There was a steady stream still coming but not down the grassy median. Keeping to a low crouch, Stiles continued down the middle back towards the RV. He had to make sure his dad was okay. A walker staggered out in front of him. Stiles froze and watched the creature as it kept walking. The heat in his hand flared but Stiles ignored it in favor of keeping his attention on the threat before him. The walker didn’t so much as look at him.

 

The walker used to be a man. A mechanic by the look of it. Half of his throat had been ripped out and blood soaked his uniform. The creature passed him and Stiles saw the tag that announced his name used to be Joel.

 

_“They never noticed you.”_

 

Stiles face hardened. His hand reached out and grabbed the thing’s ankle making it fall over. It hissed and looked back for its attacker. The walker didn’t see him. It looked around and around but still didn’t see Stiles _sitting right_ there in arms reach. Didn’t smell him. Didn’t hear his breathing. _Nothing_.

 

_“They never noticed you.”_

 

“Well ain’t that swell,” Stiles muttered springing into action. The teen jammed his blade through skull and dead grey matter. He withdrew the knife with one smooth, quick motion and continued on as stealthily as he could…just to be safe.

 

_“I’ll let you figure it out.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys my beta and I have been watching so much Deadpool we have literally been dripping snark at every turn. You're welcome by the way. I guess we can all agree that Stiles is kinda of an innocent version of Deadpool... you know if took away the guns, mutation, fighting skills... okay he's got the snark and that's what counts and that's what we love our little Twinkle Toes.  
> I meant to post this on my birthday which was yesterday but hey editing took longer than we thought and... burgers man.  
> So do you like? Do you hate? I gotta know! Comments encourage the muse and my beta. We are insecure little unicorns that need lovin'.  
> See ya next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "MAXIMUM EFFORT!!!!" 
> 
> Explanations and apologies at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 3

 

Daryl threw the stinking corpse off himself and made his way to T’s side. He yanked the walker off him and pulled the bleeding man into a sitting position. With the toss of his shop rag for first aid, the hunter ran to check on the kid. Dropping to one knee Daryl froze at when he only found empty space under the car. Cursing under his breathe he straightened. Experienced eyes narrowed as he scanned the area for any clues as to what might have happened.

 

 _Don’ look like no walker got ‘im,_ he thought to himself not finding any fresh blood or drag marks. _Fuck!_ Quick silent steps took him the other side of the car and whole new story. He could see where the kid pulled himself out from under the car not the other way around. Going in the opposite direction Daryl saw heavy measured steps that led to a downed walker.  The tracker moved forward and examined the single stab wound to the creature’s head impressed. _Not as defenseless as he’s making himself out to be._ Daryl found more of the kid’s large footprints and followed them with ease. Kid had been moving with a purpose obviously. _Probably going for his dad._

 

He continued that way for a short while when a high pitched scream caused his steps to falter. With a louder curse, Daryl took off a dead run.

 

…..

 

 

The numbers thinned out and still Stiles moved amongst them unnoticed. Any that were unfortunate to cross his path were swiftly and quietly dealt with. He wasn’t stupid though. Standing up may or may not gain their attention but he wasn’t going to press his luck. Stiles was starting to wonder just how far he had run before he passed out earlier if it was taking him this frigging long. It was finally looking like he had reached the end of the horde when he heard Sophia scream. There was no hesitation. Stiles was up and running back to the RV zombies be damned. He made the scene just in time to see Rick and his father jumping the metal barrier. He could hear walkers snarling hungrily in the direction they went. _Fuuuuuuck!_

 

“What happened?” Stiles demanded.

 

Carol climbed out from under a van looking at Stiles fearfully.

 

“Two walkers are after my baby!” she cried before Lori covered her mouth with her hand.

 

Not wasting a moment, Stiles darted forward and jumped the barrier after the two ex-lawmen. All that time running around the preserve paid off as he was immediately met with a slope that proved easy for him traverse. Once at the bottom he found Rick’s rifle laying discarded in a flattened patch of grass. He must have not made it all the way to the bottom still on his feet. _Crap!_ Stiles thought chasing after the quickly fading sounds of the walkers snarling, Sophia whimpering, and the heavy thuds of two sets of booted feet.

 

A constant mantra of, _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ ran continuously through the teen’s mind. He was _not_ going to lose his dad to a stupid fucking zombie. He wasn’t going to lose _anyone_ to this forest. Sophia was going _back_ to her mother and they were getting the _Hell_ out of here.

 

Stiles stopped cold when he heard the shouts of Rick and his Dad.

 

_No! No! No! NO!_

 

Terrified Stiles ran towards the voices at full speed, his lungs beginning to burn. He came to a creek and jumped down almost face-planting when his tired legs almost folded.  Mentally he cursed Jenner to that special place for asshole scientists in hell as he took a few precious seconds to try and catch his breath. That distance would not have taken so much out of him before his time with Dr. Needle-Happy and his merry band of Nazis.

 

“Dad!” he called out not caring that his voice cracked with his terror.

 

“S-Stiles?” a small shaky voice answered.

 

The young man turned, his gaze landing on a downed tree close by covered with debris, to see Sophia climbing out from where she had obviously been hiding. Once clear she ran to Stiles, threw her arms around his waist knocking a grunt from him, and quietly began to cry into his stomach.

 

“You okay?” he asked wrapping his arms around her. She looked up at him with a nod, her face flushed and wet with tears.

 

“Your dad and Rick led the walkers away so I could go back,” she said in a rush.

 

“Which way did they go?” he asked loosening his hold on the trembling girl. She instantly held on tighter.

 

“No! Please! Don’t leave me alone,” she sobbed. “Not again.”

 

“Alright. Alright. Shhh-shhh-shhh princess. I’m staying with you.” Stiles resolve crumbled in the face of the girl’s terror. He loosened her arms long enough to lift her up. She latched back onto him like a barnacle with arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. Her damp face pressed to his neck and her breath hitched as she tried to calm down. He continued to shush her rubbing her back lightly until all that was left was a few sniffles. “You good now? Hm?” He asked gently as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She nodded, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Okay it’s time to get movin’.”

 

“Rick said to keep the sun on our left shoulder,” she said as he placed her up on the creek bank.

 

“Okay,” he said climbing up after her. Sophia immediately took hold of his hand. “That sounds easy enough.”

 

……

 

 

“You sure this is the spot?” Daryl asked looking into the small hidey-hole Rick indicated.

 

“I left her _right here_ ,” Rick insisted.

 

“Yeah,” John confirmed. “We had to practically beg her to stay put. How’d you find this place though?”

 

“Yer’ kid’s prints led me here,” Daryl said looking around their environment for any clue about the missing pair’s whereabouts.

 

“Stiles?” John felt a ball of dread fill his gut.

 

“Yeah. Dumb kid chased after you when he saw you going after Sophia,” Shane replied lazily. John glared barely resisting the urge to put a bullet in the man’s chest. Lord knew the ass was annoying alive. As a walker he’d probably be twice as bad. Not that his wolf didn’t fantasize about ripping his undead head off bare handed.

 

“He must have found Sophia,” Rick said. “I told her to go that way and keep the sun on her left shoulder.”

 

Shane opened his mouth to contest him when Daryl snapped at Glenn to get out of the trail.

 

“There’s two sets o’ prints going the way ya’ said. Looks like she dun tol’ the Sherriff’s kid which way to go.”

 

John groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“What?” Rick said.

 

“We better hurry,” John replied. “Along with having the worst luck on the planet, Stiles has no sense of direction. Even with directions as simple as that.”

 

……

 

 

“Okay. Sun on the left shoulder,” Stiles kept muttering under his breath as they continued back to the interstate.

 

He hoped.

 

Crap! He should have paid more attention to his surroundings when he was chasing wildly after his father. Who knew it actually paid to pay attention to little things like that when you were worried about your loved one becoming a flesh eating corpse. Stiles sighed.  It was a stupid mistake. One he was often guilty of according to Derek. Not that he was ever going to tell the brooding werewolf that. Nope. Maybe on the Hale’s deathbed or under torture but not under any normal circumstances. Sourwolf didn’t need the satisfaction.

 

The sound of a twig snapping ahead of them stopped the pair in their tracks. He dropped in a crouch with his knife drawn and tried to see what caused the sound but all he saw was endless forest.

 

“What if it’s a walker?” Sophia whispered fearfully clinging to Stiles like a lifeline. That was entirely possible. While he might be invisible to them, the girl wasn’t. He was going to have to hope that his werewolf buddies would be able to track him down. That decided he grabbed Sophia around the waist and lifted her up. He took off in another direction that had thicker woods to help keep them concealed from any zombies.

 

 

……

 

 

“They was doin’ okay ‘til they got here,” Daryl said examining the kids prints with frustration. “Looks like he picked ‘er up an’ rabbited off that way.”

 

“Walker?” Glenn asked. Daryl shook his head.

 

“I don’t see no other prints. Just theirs.”

 

John looked around hoping to see some sign of his son in the forest. He was still trying to get the smell of decay out of his nose so he could track him by scent but dammit if that stink just didn’t stick.

 

“Sheriff Stilinski! Rick!” Everyone looked up at to see Scott jogging towards them. John rushed forward. Maybe the other alpha had been able to shake that smell from his nose. He stopped the teen before he could reach the rest of the search party.

 

Daryl watched the pair closely as John spoke in a hushed tone.

 

“What! Where’s Stiles?” the crooked jawed kid’s voice raised as he looked around frantically. It looked like he was smelling the air at the same time.

 

_What the hell?_

 

John got his attention back and seemed to ask something before the kid paused then took a deep breath through his nose. He released it and shook his head looking frustrated. John nodded patted his arm reassuringly before turning back to the group.

 

“What’s that all about?” Rick asked in a low voice.

 

“Got no clue,” Daryl said as the pair grew closer. “Got other things to worry ‘bout.”

 

“Rick, how do you want to play this?” John asked.

 

While the others planned out the search and how to keep the group back at the interstate occupied, Scott was inwardly screaming and losing his mind. His wolf paced and roared at the loss of a pack mate and the impotent rage of not being able to do a thing about it. Like John, his nose was so full of death it crippled that sense. He couldn’t even smell the people standing right in front of him. Trying to track Stiles by scent was out of the question until he could get his nose clear and that wasn’t going to happen when they were going to be exiled out of the cleansing scents of the forest back to the corpse filled interstate. He hoped his buddy and that sweet kid were okay.

 

“Yer’ kid leaves pretty big tracks. He should be easy to find,” the archer told the Sheriff. “Leave it to me an’ Rick.”

 

“We’ll find yer’ boy,” Rick promised putting a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder. “You get back with the rest and keep everyone calm. Especially Carol.”

 

 

……

 

 

Stiles stared down at the creek angrily. If Sofia wasn’t with him he’d be cursing up a storm. Hell this called for a full on _tantrum_! He was _allowed_! Damned zombies couldn’t see him anyway. But Sophia was relying on him so he had to put a cork on that impulse. So. Plan B.

 

“Okay. We’re taking a break,” Stiles said.

 

“So, we’re lost?” the young girl asked quietly.

 

“Fraid so,” he said sitting on a nearby downed log. She sat down next to him. “I’m gonna catch my breath and we’re going try and find the spot I found you. Then… we start over.”

 

The little girl hugged her doll tightly to her chest and nodded in agreement. Stiles propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. The headache that had been creeping up on him was getting worse which was a bad sign. He needed to rest but that wasn’t going to be possible out here. Especially when he had someone to protect. So the pair sat quietly though Stiles mind was anything but. His ADHD was running a million miles an hour in just as many directions. He tried to focus on something, anything to keep from zoning out on all the shit running through his head. Inspiration struck.

 

“So why do you call them walkers?” he asked suddenly. Sophia looked at him confused. “I mean they’re zombies.” Sophia tilted her head like she was seriously considering the question.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Walkers? These things run too you know. Well…more of a fast stumble but it’s not just walking.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Anyway I hate them.”

 

“Not too fond of them myself,” Stiles agreed with a nod. “You need to learn how to fight back though.”

 

She looked up at him wide eyed and confused.

 

“But I’m only twelve,” she said as if that explained everything perfectly.

 

“And I’m seventeen. Age doesn’t matter to these things, Sof,” Stiles said gently. “Don’t you want to be able to take care of yourself and your mom?” Sophia nodded enthusiastically. “Okay then. My little warrior princess is going to need a proper weapon.” She broke into a fit of giggles as he pushed himself to his feet.

 

It took some time but eventually Stiles found a branch thick and sturdy enough to make a decent spear for a smaller person. Taking his find in hand he returned to his seat and began to whittle one end to a sharp point. The two spoke softly about randomly important things. Randortant things? Impordomly maybe? Blinking and shaking his head at the oddness of his own brain functions, Stiles tuned back in on what his charge was saying. The grip he had on his knife tightened as she told him about how her daddy would hurt her mommy and that he had started to look at her funny when he thought no one was around. Stiles found himself glad a walker had already killed the bastard because he would have buried his blade in the disgusting shitpile’s head with no remorse. He told her about lacrosse and how he rode the bench for most of the time up until his junior year. Finally, his headache was fading and he had a decent enough spear. He handed it over to her as she made excited grabby hands for it.

 

“Thank you,” she chirped clutching it awkwardly with her arms close to her body trying to hold on to her doll at the same time. The spear was easily twice her height and just thick enough for her to get her hands around. Something about it was bugging him though. Sophia started to make tentative pretend thrusts at an imaginary walker and it clicked.

 

“Does that hurt?”

 

Sophia looked at him in confusion.

 

“The wood. Does it make your hands hurt?” He pointed to her new weapon.

 

Understanding dawned on her face then turned to concentration as she tested her grip for a bit with a few pretend attacks.

 

“A little bit,” she replied squeezing the haft and giving it a shake.

 

“Yeah you don’t have the callouses for it yet. You’ll get ‘em. It’ll take time. In the meantime, turn your back okay.” She did as he asked and Stiles took off his flannel then his under shirt. Quickly he put his flannel back on and buttoned it up. “Okay you’re good. Hand it over.” Stiles propped the spear up beside himself on the log and began tearing his shirt into strips and winding them around the spear to create grips. “Alright. Now try that.”

 

She beamed at him as she handled the weapon.

 

“Much better.” She nodded decisively. The move caused her awkward hold on her doll to loosen and she gasped in dismay as if fell to the grass.

 

Stiles watched her struggle with both items with a look of sympathy and pain. Poor kid. She was all limbs. Just like him. He looked back at the remnants of his shirt and then back at Sophia and just barely succeeded holding back laughter. The poor girl was trying to tuck the dolls arm into the rolled up waistband of her capris. She only succeeded in losing her grip on both items and huffed in irritation looking about two seconds from stomping her foot as the spear clattered to the ground. Sophia turned the full force of her pout on Stiles when she heard him snort in amusement. Immediately he held up his hands in surrender, for he learned long ago even at young age girls could be dangerous. The fact that he had just given this one a weapon that could just as easily be turned on its maker had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nope. Satisfied that he was properly remorseful Sophia retrieved her doll and brushed the dirt off it.

 

“Lemme see,” Stiles said. “I got an idea.”

 

More strips were torn from the already destroyed. After a few moments of tying, twisting, braiding ( _Thank you, Lydia!)_ , and adjusting, Miss Sophia happily donned a new accessory. Dolly now hung from a cross body strap secured snugly around its little cloth waist. The tearfully smiling girl hugged Stiles and he rubbed her back ignoring tears soaking the front of his shirt.

 

“There,” he said with a firm squeeze on her shoulder. Sophia pulled back hiding her face and wiping her eyes dry while Stiles pretended not to notice. “We’re all set now.” The blonde girl nodded in agreement. “While we walk I can give you a few pointers on how to use this thing,” he said securing his knife back into its sheath.

 

Stiles threw the remnants of his shirt to the ground and stepped off the bank then helped her down as well. They absently followed the creek while he explained different attack methods she could use neither realizing that they were going in the opposite direction of the search party.

 

 

……

 

 

When John returned to the others without Sophia and Stiles the reaction was immediate.  Carol collapsed in tears, Lydia and Kira looked devastated, and Parrish and Derek looked ready to run into the forest to hunt for the pair themselves. Scott stopped both of them by reminding Derek that they were all nose blind and Parrish that he had zero tracking skills. John gathered Carol up from Lori and took her inside the RV explain that Rick and Daryl were tracking their children. That seemed to calm the woman some but still she cried silently into the man’s shoulder.

 

 

……

 

 

Daryl held up the remnants of a torn up T-shirt.

 

“Is it his?” Rick asked. Daryl nodded taking a closer look at the area. There were wood shavings near the log where they found the torn up fabric. “Do you think he had to make bandages?”

 

“No. I think he was makin’ a weapon. Look at these.” He held up a few of the shavings. “Proly a spear or sumthin’. They were here for a while. Proly’ had to rest.”

 

“Smart kid,” Rick muttered.

 

“Not really, no.” Daryl grumbled motioning to the footprints leading into the creek.  “They started off on dry ground then hit water. A lot harder to track ‘em now and we ain’t got the light.”

 

“Maybe they were trying to start over. Get back t’ square one,” Rick suggested eagerly. “There’s still some light left. We can try.” Daryl nodded and the pair started walking along the creek bed in the opposite direction Stiles and Sophia had taken.

 

They returned to the spot Rick left Sophia and started over. After killing, then dissecting a walker to make sure it hadn’t bitten a human lately, they were losing the light and had to go back to the interstate. The pair were met by John before they got there. His face was solemn.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rick said stepping forward signaling for Daryl to hang back. He reached out and put his and on the older man’s shoulder.

 

“Followed their tracks for a while. They ended up back at the creek,” Daryl said. “Figure they’re gonna stick to that. It’s their only landmark.” John nodded reigning in his frustration. If he just wasn’t fucking nose blind right now! He should have been able to track Stiles in no time flat but dammit his kid was out there sick, with no food, water, or shelter. To top it off he was protecting a little girl who was even more vulnerable.

 

“Yer kids gonna be fine, man. I saw the walkers he took out. He can handle himself,” Daryl said. “Sophia too.” John nodded stiffly but his downturned face was harder than marble.

 

Rick put both hands on the Sheriff’s shoulders and have him a small shake causing the older man to raise his head.  Eyes filled with worry bordering on hopelessness met ones blazing with determination and reassurance.

 

“John, we are _going_ to find him. I _swear_ to you,” he said fiercely. The older man took in a deep breath and let it out looking at his surroundings looking helpless and full of impotent rage. The younger man tried to imagine if it was Carl out there and he _knew_ what John was suffering. The very thought made Rick want nothing more than to wrap his arms around John until he was finished screaming out his pain and frustration. It was something he imagined that Shane would have done for him no so long ago. Now though? He wasn’t so sure.

 

“Stiles is a survivor. He’ll make it,” John said taking a deep breath and standing straighter. “He’s done it before.”

 

“Lose yer’ kid a lot?” Daryl asked flatly. John gave him an icy stare that clearly told him to go fuck himself.

 

As expected when they returned without Sophia, Carol was devastated.

 

“Carol, she’s still with Stiles,” Rick said kneeling beside the woman. That seemed to get through the woman’s fog of grief. She turned to John for confirmation and received a solemn nod in response.

 

“Then she has a chance. She’s not alone. She’ll be okay,” she said nodding her head. “He’ll protect her.”

 

“If there’s one thing I know about Stiles,” Lydia said wrapping an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “He would give his all to protect an innocent.” Carol threw her arms around the young woman and sobbed. Lydia soothed the overwrought mother and all it took was a single glare from her to signal everyone to give them some privacy.

 

The group obediently dispersed and John went to T’s van to sort himself out. Rick went to follow him but Lori’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked at her confused but she gave his arm a tug to indicate he should follow her. She led him away from the group and behind a large delivery truck. The moment they were out of view Lori turned to him with flashing eyes full of anger.

 

“How could you blatantly lie to Carol like that? To us?” she demanded. “To me?” Now Rick understood the sentiment that a person’s mood could give you whiplash.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Shane told me about that… that… FREAK! And you just told Carol, told me, told those people we were safe. Well tell me _this_ Rick. How is Sophia - how are any of us - _safe_ around someone that can kill with a _touch_?” she demanded. Rick’s shocked expression slowly went blank during her tirade.

 

“Did Shane also tell you that that boy, not ‘freak’, because if I hear you call him that again Lori so help me this conversation is over,” the woman blanched in the face of her usually reasonable husband’s seemingly unreasonable threat. “…did he tell you that the reason, Stiles is so weak and ill is because Jenner experimented and tortured him for _months_?” Lori paled then looked away unable to hold his stare. Not tolerating her avoidance, he stepped around her and dipped his head slightly to make her look at him in the eye.  “Did _Shane_ tell you that Jenner was about to kill us all before Stiles did what he did?” She didn’t respond. “Did _Shane_ tell you that even though it’s over a hundred degrees out here, Stiles is wearing a winter leather glove to protect everyone because he’s terrified of hurting someone? He’s doing it to _protect_ everyone. Even though it can make his condition worse. That young man is willing to nearly get himself killed just to protect us. So yes. We are safe around Stiles. Sophia is safe with Stiles.” His wife didn’t have anything to say but her face was red with humiliation. Rick watched her for a few moments longer. Letting the silence speak for her because she had no words to defend herself. “You listen to a lot of what Shane has to say. ‘Rick died back in the hospital.’ ‘Rick was wrong for going back for the guns and trying to save a man from dying a slow death on a roof top.’ ‘Rick is wrong about the CDC.’ ‘ _Rick is wrong_.’ That seems to be the general theme here, Lori. I wonder what else Shane has said.”

 

With that parting remark, he turned from her and began walking away. Rick kept walking and trying to calm himself down. He deliberately avoided looking at Shane. He was certain if he saw the man now he’d probably deck him. All the anger drained from him when he saw Carl talking to a patient John about a cache of bladed weapons he found earlier that day. The older man looked tired and run down but he listened attentively to the energetic child while he sat on the floor in the rear of the van.

 

“It will definitely make looking for Stiles and Sophia safer. Blades are quieter than guns,” Carl said optimistically. “It will keep the heard away.”

 

“That’s good thinking, kiddo,” John said with a half-hearted smile. “You’ve got good instincts.” The boy smiled proudly under the man’s praise but it faded quickly. He reached out and put a small hand on the older man’s shoulder.

 

“We’ll find them, Sheriff Stilinski. I know we will. Dad’s the best. He found us after he woke up from bein’ in a coma.” For a moment, John blinked in surprised but his tense body relaxed and he covered the small boyish hand with his larger weathered one.

 

“Thanks buddy,” John said with a genuine if tired smile.

 

“Hey Carl,” Rick said approaching the pair.

 

“Dad!” Carl said rushing over to his father. John watched on sadly as Rick knelt down and hugged him. The boy repeated his story about how he found the bladed weapons to his father.

 

“That’s great, Carl. I’ll go check ‘em out in a bit. Why don’t you go with Dale and I’ll be there in a bit. I have to talk to John.”

 

“Sure Dad.” The boy hurried off. John looked at Rick expectantly.

 

“I’ll get that perimeter we talked about organized. You should rest. The search starts again at first light,” Rick said quietly.

 

“You’re the one that should rest,” John said with a small smirk. “I got Parrish and Derek to finish up that perimeter while you were searching.  We got one escape route and all we need is a look out and we should be good for the night. You and that archer can take it easy for a few hours. Thank you, by the way. For everything you’re doing. I really appreciate it.”  Before Rick could reply John got into the van and started settling in for some sleep. Reluctantly, the younger man left the Sheriff alone and went to the RV to inspect the weapons Carl found.

 

 

……

 

 

The night was cool and the only sounds that could be heard were those of the bugs and the occasional night creature creeping through the forest. Daryl stood on top of the RV staring out at the dark woods with shrewd eyes. Where was that kid? The not knowing was pissing him off. At the same time his worry for Stiles and Sophia was confusing as hell though, each for a different reason.

 

 Sophia was a little girl he barely knew but if that good for nothing father of hers hadn’t been killed she probably would have grown up like he had. It had been hard enough seeing Carol get knocked around but Sophia was still innocent. If it ever had gone that far Daryl probably would have put a bolt in the waste-of-space’s skull.

 

Stiles though… Stiles was… different from anyone he’d ever met in his whole life. Rick told him what that crackpot scientist had done to the kid and he saw the marks on his arm. Still the kid didn’t act like he was touched by it. Like he wasn’t going to let himself drown in his fear and anger. Then there were moments… when the kid was off by himself and thought no one was looking. Daryl could see it all in those haunted eyes. He could see memories in there. That kid had seen death. A lot of it and up close. He was just seventeen and his eyes look like he had survived countless horrific battles. It was the same stare Daryl had seen on the faces of war vets. Then the very next second the little shit was laughing and joking like nothing in the world matters. Like it all wasn’t ending. Of course there was the small issue of Daryl owing the kid his life. That didn’t sit well with the hunter. The thought of _owing_ someone grated on him like sandpaper. Especially mouthy brats with eyes like honey in the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked the chapter. I worked hard on it so did my beta.   
> I'm really sorry that it took so long to update this chapter and I really appreciate all the kudos and comments you guys have left.   
> The reason it took so long to update the this chapter was because work took up my whole life. We all know how that can be but this was like that times 100. There was stress and craziness. It all ended with me getting fired. So now I have a ton of free time and thought I would celebrate my freedom with a posting.   
> Believe me there is a lot written out. I just have to type it and what is typed has to get through my beta and me. So hopefully the next chapter will be up soon with more Deadpool quotes for you to enjoy. Has anyone figured out one of the secret pairings?  
> Again thank you and I hope you enjoyed the chapter and where the story is going.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Really? Rolling up the sleeves?"

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Rick thumped a leather bundle down and unrolled it on the hood of the mustang. As he was revealing the implements inside Scott and Kira were next to the RV keeping the youngest Grimes occupied by showing him how to safely wield a hunting knife.

 

“Everybody takes a weapon.” He announced as he motioned the remaining members of the group forward.

 

“These aren’t the type of weapons we need,” Andrea protested sneering at what was on offer. “What about the guns?”

 

“Not this again? We’ve been over that.” Shane sighed from the shade of the RV.

 

John frowned at the woman’s attitude and after a brief hesitation made his way over to Dale.

 

“Can you bring me her gun?” he asked. The older man eyed the other cautiously but went to do as he was asked.  Meanwhile, Shane lectured Andrea about why only those with training would have guns. Dale returned and handed the piece to John who expertly ejected the magazine and made sure the chamber was empty. The handed the mag back to Dale. “Thank you Dale.”

 

The older man shook his head hoping he had made the right decision before looking the other man in the eye somberly.

 

“Don’t make me regret this.”

 

John held the eye contact for a moment, silently conveying his understanding. The fact that Dale cared for the woman was obvious to everyone but something had to be done about her recklessness. The sheriff put a reassuring hand on the older man’s shoulder and nodded. John turned away and strode purposefully towards a sulking Andrea.

 

“This your gun?” John asked causing the blonde turn towards him. Her face lit up with recognition and she tried to take it from him. He easily kept it from her.

 

“That’s mine,” she snapped. “Give it back.”

 

“No problem,” John said with a perfectly accommodating smile. In a few swift movements John had the gun disassembled and was handing the pieces over to her. Her mouth fell open then she began to sputter in outrage.

 

“You have no right...”

 

“No!” he barked back. “ _You_ have no right.” His face hardened with impatience. “You petulantly ask for a deadly weapon you barely know how to hold, one that could draw more danger to our group, like it’s a toy. My son and a little girl are out in that forest and need our help. We _do not_ have time to cater to your issues. People’s lives are on the line. If you wanted to die so badly you should have fed yourself to the herd and stop wasting our time and resources!” John snarled inches from her shocked face. He turned away from the blonde in disgust and went to Rick’s side.

 

Face red with humiliation, Andrea shoved the pieces of her gun into her bag. Taking a deep breath to quell the urge to throw stink-eye at any gawkers, she listened quietly as the Sheriff began detailing how they were going to run the search. Andrea caught sight of the red headed girl filing her nails and watching her unashamed. The blonde scowled but instead of making the other woman look away, the red head simply raised an eyebrow in challenge. Andrea, in the end, was the one to break eye contact.

 

“Everybody assemble your packs.” Shane announced several moments later after assignments were completed.

 

“Hi.”

 

Andrea stopped herself from moving towards Dale and looked behind her.  The boy with the crooked jaw was watching her, his face a mask of concern.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. His tone was cautious as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

 

“What do you care?” the blonde muttered.

 

“It’s what I do,” he shrugged, pinning her with puppy dog eyes of doom. “That was harsh and I know you’re going through something.” Andrea bristled at the idea of a teenager psychoanalyzing her. “Look. You don’t have to talk about it.” Scott held up his hands to delay and obviously defensive response from the woman. “Just know…. some of us have been there. We know what you’re going through.”

 

Andrea scoffed at his words.

 

“You’re just a kid,” she spat wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“True. But Stiles was even younger than Sofia and Carl when he watched his mother slowly wither away to a disease that ate her brain,” he said softly. “John would work long hours to pay the bills and their little boy sat…. watching her die.”

 

“My God,” Andrea gasped in horror.

 

“We all had to grow up fast and have own scars. Even before all this. So how about you, Kira, and I stick together until you get comfortable with that blade? Kira is an expert when it comes to swords I’m sure she could help you get used to a blade,” he offered hopefully.

 

Andrea gave him a small smile and barely resisted the urge to ruffle his hair.

 

“That sounds good, Scott. Thank you.”

 

……

 

Being away from the interstate and all those corpses rotting in their vehicular tombs was a very good thing. Hell it was down-right pleasant. While John’s nose still held the lingering smell of death, he was finally picking up new scents. He could actually make out the distinctive notes of those around him and thankfully the forest. It would be hours yet, according to Derek’s experience, before their noses cleared enough to track Stiles. For now, they would have to make do with the search pattern. Not that they were having much luck with that.

 

So far they had come across a tent with the corpse of a man inside that had blown his brains out. Daryl made a comment about the guy “opting out”. The smell of regret and sadness lay heavy around the group, though it was the strongest around Andrea. Scott and Kira led her away from the area speaking in hushed reassuring tones. John really couldn’t bring himself to care if she was okay. Until she proved herself an asset to his pack she was just someone waiting to die and, quite honestly, a waste of his time.

 

“We should see if he left anything useful behind,” Derek said poking around the campsite for any salvageable supplies. His head shot up as the sound of church bells filled the air. Almost as one they all took off at a run in the direction the sound seemed to be coming from. The wolves were running nearly full speed towards the source, easily outpacing everyone else.

 

“It’s digital,” Derek said loud enough so that only the alphas could hear and received nods from both.

 

“John you should hang back a bit. You shouldn’t be able to run as fast as us if you want to keep passing for human,” Scott suggested. John silently cursed his own thoughtlessness and slowed his pace.

 

“Call out if it’s them,” he ordered.

 

“You know we will, Alpha,” Derek replied.

 

The two younger men shifted with a snarl and picked up speed. By now the recording had stopped but their senses had the source pinpointed.  The pair burst through the tree line into a cemetery and continued on to the modest church. The werewolves stopped outside the double doors listening for what might be inside.

 

“No heart beats,” the young alpha paused, “but I can hear those… things in there,” he continued softly. Derek gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment.

 

“Three. We should deal with them before the other show up,” the older wolf said. “Rick’s group will probably make too much noise and draw more.”  Scott nodded and the pair dropped into a crouched position. He quietly opened one of the doors and the beta soundlessly slipped inside. The alpha kept watch while the walkers were quickly dispatched. Derek came out of the church just as the group emerged from the tree line.

 

“No sign of ‘em,” Derek grumbled as John came within earshot. “Just took care of a few walkers.” He stomped down the steps leaving congealed bloody foot prints behind. He began scrapping the gore off his boots in the grass. Scott sighed sadly at the hopeful look on Rick’s face. John had heard the message and his face already reflected his frustration.

 

The group ran full speed for the church with John bringing up the rear at a jog. Shane was trying to tell Rick it was the wrong church because it didn’t have a steeple or bells.

 

“What did you find?” Rick asked breathlessly. The crooked jawed youth shook his head. The man’s face fell but he rushed into the church calling Sophia and Stiles’ names.

 

 Daryl followed after him and spied the downed walkers between the pews with skull shrapnel and brain matter splattered across the floor. A single clear set of boot treads in the middle of each putrid mess was a common denominator. The thought of the strength that would have taken left him blinking for a good few seconds. Even _he_ couldn’t stomp a walker’s skull _flat_ much less with a single blow. It took a few tries to even break the bone. Daryl abandoned is examination with a shake of his head and looked up at the crucifix above the altar. He approached it with weary frustration in his eyes. Religion was one of those things that got under his skin.

 

“Hey JC. You taking requests?” he asked the statue sarcastically. He turned around to see Shane giving Rick a basic ‘I told you so’. He could also see John glaring at Shane like he wanted to slam the jackass’ head into one of the pews repeatedly just to shut him up. Daryl was starting to like the sheriff more and more.

 

“There’s no steeple, Rick. No way it could come from here,” Shane said in a low tone.

 

He was proven wrong by the sound of church bells shattering the relative silence around the small church. They were out the door like a shot looking for the source. They got to the side of the church in time to see Derek rip a unit from the wall instantly silencing the sound.

 

“A timer. It’s on a timer,” Daryl explained pointing to the horn mounted near the roof. Carol bit her lip and murmured that she was going to go back in for a bit. A few others followed her.

 

“I’m gonna scout around a bit,” John told Derek. “Keep track of everyone. With our luck we’ll lose someone _else_ out here.” He waited for acknowledgment of the order before he turned on his heel and walked away.

 

The beta let out a sigh and moved to prop his back against a tree in an area that gave him a better view of his surroundings. Scott and Kira had Andrea on the other side of the church in quiet conversation…check. Parrish looked to have taken over Carl’s knife lessons a little further off…check. A quick listen with werewolf hearing to reassure himself everyone else was inside the church…check. Frustrated and paranoid Alpha stalking around…double check.

 

The former Sheriff prowled the driveway with his eyes glowing red and his jaw clenched. He cast his gaze around almost desperately trying to see if there were any fresh tracks but there were none to be found. His nose was clearing more every minute which made it obvious to John that their two lost members hadn’t been in the area recently but not clear enough yet to know if they hadn’t ever been there. He scrubbed and hand over his face and blew out a tired breath. If only it were safe enough for Stiles to shout out for them. It’s not as if there was anything wrong with his hearing.

 

A hushed argument between his two least favorite people caught his attention. Shane and Lori were talking about the former leaving the group. The latter did not seem to think it was a good idea no matter what her words said. Her heartbeat gave lies to them. To John the trigger happy asshole’s departure was welcome news. The best he’d had in a while. It could not happen soon enough as far as he was concerned. John would prefer it if the dipshit took the two timing she beast with him and made everyone else’s situation just that much better.

 

“And Carl? We dragged him into this!” Lori hissed. John almost felt whiplash from the about-face the woman pulled.

 

_Good god talk about mixed signals!_

 

John turned his head ever so slightly so he could watch them out of the corner of his eye as another thought made him halt mid-step. If the two-timing manipulator decided to go off with her boy-toy there was no way in HELL they were taking Carl! John’s wolf growled in agreement as his eyes flashed from red to blue and back.

 

“I love Carl.” Shane rasped out.

 

“He thinks you hate him.” Lori countered.

 

“I’m trying to put some distance… I’m trying to make this easier…” the visibly frazzled man seemed to be struggling to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

 

As their argument continued, John developed a clearer picture of the relationship between Rick, Lori, and Shane. It did not improve his opinion of the wife and ‘best friend’ in any way. It certainly explained a lot though.

 

Jealousy could make _anyone_ unstable.  That was something you learned pretty quickly once you had spent time in law enforcement. No matter what either of them said, Shane was not going to leave. Guys like him never did. He was just trying to force Lori’s hand and get her to admit her feelings. It was clear to anyone that was not trying to fool themselves that the woman wasn’t in love with her husband any longer. She clung to him only because of her son…maybe. Well more than likely it was to appease some sort of guilt she felt for something she did before or after all this crap went down. Rick, to his credit, did not seem to be buying it and was slowly becoming more distant with his wife. The man had to know there was something between his wife and Shane. The poor man probably did not say anything because of Carl.  It was a tough situation but lying about it was not going to help anything. All John could do was make sure that Rick and Carl were protected when things finally came to a head.

 

……

 

Rick remained at the rear of the chapel as he listened to Carol’s fervent prayers at the altar. The guilt consumed him and the only thing helping him keep it all together was the reminder that Stiles was with Sophia and would take care of her. The evidence that he had at least tried to arm her was encouraging.

 

“Please God, keep them both safe,” Carol whispered tearfully. Lydia went to the woman’s side as she began to sob quietly. She put her arm around the elder woman and whispered assurances to her while Lori glared at the pair from the pews.

 

Rick sighed and walked out of the chapel to get away from the scene hoping some air would help alleviate some of the crushing feeling in his chest. He didn’t get very far, though, until Shane was on his heels.

 

“These people are spent and we got a whole other side of the creek bed to search…” the man started in on him with barely a pause.

 

“I can’t stop. You go back,” Rick cut him off. “They could be around here.”

 

“There’s only so many hours of daylight left, man and we have a lot of ground to cover,” Shane pushed.

 

“Then I’ll stay by myself. You and the group go back,” Rick replied looking over Shane’s shoulder to scan the tree line. The man growled and moved into his line of sight.

 

“Staying out here by yourself is suicide,” he snapped.

 

“He won’t be by himself.”

 

The pair looked over to see John approaching them.

 

“John you…” Rick started.

 

“If there’s a chance Stiles heard those bells he’s probably in the area,” John said stopping the predictable argument cold. Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“You expect me to believe this old man’s got yer’ back…”

 

Before Shane could get another word out he found himself face first in the grass with the tip of a blade at the base of his skull

 

“I was in the Army’s Delta Force, _boy_ ,” John growled in the man’s ear as he yanked his hair back causing the knife to dig in and almost breaking skin. “What did you ever do with your life, Sport? Chase skirts?” Shane hissed as the grip tightened further. “I know what I’m doing far better than _you_ ever will.”

 

As fast as it happened, John was up and sheathing his buck knife. Shane scrambled to his feet and glared at the older man likely debating whether or not to shoot him.

 

“You wouldn’t even get it up before I took it from you,” John said, eyes narrowing. The younger man looked like he was still willing to give it a shot.

 

“Well,” Rick cleared his throat when the word squeaked a bit, “I’m convinced. John’s with me,” Rick said turning away from the two and casually walking back to the group who had been watching the whole exchange in varying degrees of shock. John’s nose twitched as it caught an odd spicy-sweet scent in the air. His brows inched towards his hairline as he noticed Rick was walking a little more bow-legged than usual. John’s inner wolf rumbled in satisfaction. The ex-deputy cleared his throat a few more times and began talking to his people. John looked back at Shane with a smirk.

 

“After you, Scooter,” John mocked, motioning for Shane to join the group.

 

 With a scowl the man stomped after his friend with John following at a more sedate pace.

 

“You’re splitting us up?” Daryl asked slightly baffled after Rick laid out the plan.

 

“Only for an hour or so, then John and I will catch up,” Rick replied.

 

“I’m staying too,” Carl said firmly. Rick looked like he wanted to argue. “She’s my friend.”

 

“Over my dead…” Lori began.

 

“Sounds good,” Rick said not wanting his son far from him. His wife gave him a look like she wanted to argue but the one she received in return stopped her in her proverbial tracks. After a brief hesitation she pulled the boy into a hug and told him to be safe. Carl promised he would and the other group set off with Shane shooting death glares at John over his shoulder.

 

While he was able to hold back the urge the flip the bird (barely) he was unable to resist giving a big fake smile and fluttering his fingers in a little sarcastic wave goodbye. He caught Daryl’s choked off snort of laughter as the bowman caught the gesture. Shooting the archer, a sincerer grin, John dropped into a relaxed pose just as Rick turned back to him.

 

“Can I have a minute?” Rick asked after a moment of silence.

 

The older man nodded in understanding and led Carl away from the church to continue his previously interrupted lesson on the best way to use a hunting knife to stop a walker. The boy was an eager student and followed John’s instructions to the letter. All the while, John kept a careful eye on their perimeter as Rick prayed for guidance inside the church. Sometimes the Alpha really wished he could turn the hearing part of this whole werewolf thing off. Rick was a man that was taking too much onto himself and needed to know that he had a support system. So maybe the hearing thing wasn’t so bad. In an instant he made a decision. He would do all he could to help Rick get through this. The man’s wife sure as hell wasn’t going to.

 

“I think my Mom and Dad are fighting again.” Carl’s quiet voice pulled the Alpha’s attention out of the chapel and back to his pupil. The boy was leaning against a tree taking refuge from the relentless sun.  John’s face didn’t give anything away while he watched the boy kick restlessly at the dirt. “They… they were arguing… the morning he got shot.” John made a soft encouraging noise while mentally adding another strike against the hateful woman. “Well, more like she was yelling at him. Dad always tried to keep her calm but it would always seem to make her madder.” The boy rubbed his nose nervously.  John’s expression hardened as he imagined how the boy must have felt having to witness the psychological abuse the woman was obviously putting Rick through. “It’s different this time though. Dad doesn’t even want to talk to her now.” He looked up at John hesitantly. His bright blue eyes were dulled with weariness and worry. The Sheriff had seen that look on a lot of kids faces and it killed him a little inside to see it on Carl’s. “I think it’s because of Shane.”

 

John had to give it to him. He was sharp. Stiles and this kid would be getting into a lot of trouble together; of that he was certain. Something like this though… it had to be handled delicately. It was not John’s place to out the trio. As much as he was sick of the subterfuge this was something for the boy’s parents to handle. For now all John could do was ease the boy’s worries a bit. The man knelt next to the boy and looked him right in the eye so he would know he was being taken seriously. John never liked to talk down to children. They saw and understood more than most adults gave them credit for.

 

“It may be the end of the world, Carl, but adults still have their own problems,” John said quietly. “If your Mom and Dad are having any, that’s their business to work out. You just have to remember that they love you.” The half lie soured on John’s tongue. He was certain that the only person Lori loved was Lori. “As far as Shane goes… why don’t you give him some space, okay? It seems like he’s got some worries that are messing with his head some. Stick to your Dad and I for now and let him concentrate on himself for a while.”

 

Carl seemed to be searching John’s face for a hint of a lie but he did not seem to find one. In the end, he just nodded.

 

“Can you promise me something?” he asked. John’s eyebrow shot up.

 

“Don’t know if I can _promise_ but I’ll listen and see what I can do. That okay?” the ex-lawman said diplomatically. It was a failsafe he used on Stiles many time when he’d been about Carl’s age. Rick’s son nodded in agreement before biting his lips as he considered what he was going to say. John waited patiently.

 

“Don’t lie to me,” Carl said solemnly.  John could not hide the surprise that simple request made on him. It quickly morphed into concern and Carl understood the silent question. “Mom… Shane… They lie. They think I don’t know but I can tell.” He looked so sad about it but he turned a small smile on the man in front of him. “You don’t, though.” John returned the smile with gentle one of his own and put a hand on his shoulder. _This kid._

 

“I can’t promise to tell you everything because some stuff I just shouldn’t,” the older man began. “… but whatever I tell you will be the truth.” Carl smiled and nodded hugging the blond man around the neck. John let him take comfort and patted him on the back to reassure him. Carl pulled back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

 

“Can you show me that move again? Where we get their legs so they can’t stand anymore,” he asked changing the subject.

 

“Sure, kid.”

 

Rick stepped out of the church looking tired but determined. John got Carl’s attention and they went to meet him at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“You ready?” John asked, his voice colored with concern. The younger man blew out a steadying breath before nodding. A heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him mid-step. “You aren’t alone in this, Rick.” He looked back at the former Sheriff. “You’ve more than proven yourself to me and mine. You have our backing no matter what.”

 

“How can you be…” Rick trailed off with a shaky inhalation as Carl continued ahead of them a bit to check out some berries on a bush. “It’s my fault Sofia and your son are missing.”

 

“Stiles made his own choices and I have no reason to believe you’ve ever lied to me. Alright? So let’s get going,” John said giving his shoulder a friendly shove. Rick nodded and gave a somewhat weak smile.

 

The trio continued searching the area with Rick taking point and John bringing up the rear. They did this in order to keep Carl in the most protected position between them. The werewolf made sure to keep his sniffing as discreet as possible. He may trust Rick but that didn’t mean the man was ready to know the whole truth yet. When Stiles and Sophia were safe maybe he would reconsider, but that was a decision for his whole pack to make together.

 

Half an hour passed and still there was no sign of either missing person. Needless to say it was disheartening. John was just about to suggest moving their search to another area but was suddenly interrupted.

 

_Crack!_

 

The twig snapping may as well have been a gunshot to John’s supernatural hearing. Everyone was instantly on alert. John barely bit back a curse. He had been so focused on the scent of a boar about twenty yards from them he had stupidly let something slip this close. John moved into position beside Rick keeping his body slightly turned to also keep an eye on Carl. He motioned for the boy to stay where he was. With Rick hyperaware it would only bring on suspicion to try and scent the air. Instead the Alpha focused on the foliage and after a moment bushes moved and a beautiful buck stepped into view.

 

John wasn’t a hunter but having to track down poachers taught him a few things. It was an older white tail; a fourteen-point buck with the velvet still on his antlers. Thing probably weighed around two hundred and fifty pounds or so. Damn was he a beauty!

 

Carl, awestruck, stepped out from between the two men and slowly approached the buck. John smiled at Rick who was looking on with a sort of proud serenity. It was the perfect picture of nature and innocence. Was this the sign Rick has been asking for back at the church?

 

The breeze shifted and John froze in horror as he recognized the scent of gun oil. The kind used in hunting rifles. In terrifying slow motion John heard the shot go off knocking the buck down and throwing Carl back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun DUN!!!!
> 
> So... Yeah... Sorry for taking so long to update. I just got a new job and yet again no time. Then when I got the chapter ready my beta got lazy then got sick and had to have surgery. She's fine but good news! She has loads of free time on her hands right now to edit my fic. YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> So it was guessed that Rick and Sheriff Stilinski are going to be a pairing. I totally deny this horrible accusation and to prove it I'm going to make them have all the gay sex I want! Oh wait... Okay yeah they're totally gonna do it and it's gonna be hawt! I totally claim rights to calling this pairing... GRIMINSKI!  
> It has a nice ring to it.  
> More Lori bashing for all your Lori hating needs. I hope you enjoyed that. I know I did. And yes I totally see Rick as an abuse survivor in canon because if you just listen to the conversation Rick has with Shane in the squad car in S1, he IS describing an abusive relationship. I know I've seen enough of them to recognize one from miles away. Then with how she likes to pit the two men against each other... GRRR I HATE LORI!!! So good thing in this universe Rick has someone to show him what love really is.  
> So guys another warning Stiles and Sophia are gonna be absent for a while since the search is ongoing. FEAR NOT! Daryl will find his man! So until next time, hopefully soon, MAXIMUM EFFORT!!!!!!!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "These timelines are so confusing."

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Everyone froze at the sharp crack of a rifle and looked around confused and worried. All, that is, except Derek and Scott. The two looked at each other in silent conversation before Derek gave a quick nod and Scott took off at a dead run.

 

“Get the hell back here!” Shane shouted after him.

 

“Keep your voice down,” Kira hissed from beside Andrea.

 

“The Hell I will! Yer’ boyfriend just took off! We don’t need to be combin’ these woods for three people,” he snapped at her.

 

“Scott went to find out if they’re okay,” Derek said stepping into the man’s personal space. “Is there a problem with that?” The beta’s head cocked to the side slightly as one thick brow inched upwards. Parrish stepped up behind Derek adding his own presence to the unspoken threat.

 

Everyone watched the tense exchange waiting to see if Derek would be able to put Shane in his place as easily as John had before. It was a very likely outcome considering Derek had strength, size, and youth on his side. That seemed to dawn on the other man as well since he huffed and took a step back.

 

“Fine then. Let’s mush on,” Shane growled turning away from Derek and Parrish.

 

“I see why the Sheriff doesn’t like him,” Parrish said. The last Hale grunted in agreement now fully understanding his alpha’s concern about the man’s seemingly tenuous hold on sanity. Walsh was desperate to wrestle control back and somehow get Lori and Carl in the process. That much the beta had garnered from half heard conversations and reading basic body language. The unstable former lawman already showed signs of suggesting packing it in and leaving Stiles and Sophia behind. If those words ever left that bastards lips, Derek swore he would break his damn legs.

 

 

……

 

 

He ran.

 

The heavy metallic scent of blood filled flared nostrils as warm fluid soaked a formerly white undershirt and branded John’s skin. He focused forward and only one thought kept circling in his mind.

 

RUN!

 

Behind him Rick and an overweight man were struggled to keep up. John ignored the sounds of labored breathing from the two and didn’t even slow when he heard the big man’s steps falter. Carl’s life was on the line. He was half shifted with the small limp body clutched to his chest. The makeshift bandage wouldn’t do for much longer. They needed help now! A doctor. _‘Somebody!’_  John prayed silently to whoever would listen.  _‘Please God just… Somebody!’_

 

“Stay with me, kid.” The words were slightly distorted by fangs and the roar he was struggling to hold back.

 

“How far?” Rick shouted at the large man who had tripped again.

 

“H-half a mile. Her-Hershel,” the overweight man wheezed and coughed as Rick pulled him back to his feet. “Talk to Hershel. He’ll help the boy.”

 

With a distance set in mind, John, as Stiles said many times, ‘threw all fucks to the wind’ and let the shift take him over. He had to save this boy. If medicine couldn’t do it then the bite would.

 

John’s glowing red eyes could see where the overweight man’s bulk had bent the high grass as the would-be hunter had originally made his way to their fateful meeting point. The alpha was hyper-aware of all the signals Carl’s body was sending. He could hear the boy’s weakening heartbeat and shallow breathing. Small cooling limbs flopped limply against him. The smell of blood was overwhelming. All together it had his wolf whining in distress.

 

John shook his head to get focused and continued running until he saw a white farm house. He heard a girl call out for her father. Reeling back his shift he approached the house just as an elderly man came out with a large group.

 

“Hershel?” He hoped the jagged edge in his voice would be interpreted as exertion instead of the growl his wolf was pushing for.

 

“Was he bit?” the man asked.

 

“Shot! By your man!” John replied sharply unable to keep the snarl out of his voice.

 

“Otis?” an older blonde woman asked, the shock evident in her tone.

 

“Help him!” John demanded not bothering to answer.

 

“Bring him inside,” the elder said without another moment’s hesitation and began to roll up his sleeves.

 

John followed as the patriarch ordered the others to bring him the supplies and equipment he needed. Within seconds they were entering the downstairs bedroom.

 

“Put him down here!” Hershel ordered throwing aside the bed’s covers. John did as he was told and applied pressure to the bandage he’d made from his uniform shirt.

 

“Are you his father?”

 

“No. He’s coming with your man.”

 

“JOHN!” a frantic male voice called.

 

“IN HERE RICK!” John responded. The distraught father rushed into the room. Hershel was already checking the child’s vitals.

 

“Is he alive?” Rick gasped.

 

“I have a heartbeat. It’s faint,” he answered. Hershel looked up at the newcomer. “Rick, was it? John? We’re gonna do everything we can to help this boy but you two need to give us some room,” Hershel said firmly. John started slightly as a smaller pair of hands covered his own and took over the pressure on Carl’s wound.

                                                                                                                                                                    

“I got it,” the blonde woman from before said, steadily urging him out of the way when he hesitated, reluctant to leave his post. John, with one last look to the pale figure he had run so far with, moved to Rick’s side in silent support. The younger father was staring helplessly at his son.

 

“Come on,” John urged after several minutes of watching the group work. With gentle pat to the back he tried nudge the dazed man toward the door but had to resort to draping his arm around stiff shoulders and guiding the other out.

 

Rick was in complete shock. It didn’t even register that he was being moved until he was eased down onto the couch. A voice was speaking but it sounded very far away. Someone moved into his line of vision. He jerked slightly as a face abruptly came into view. Glazed sky blue eyes locked with concerned steely grey. He blinked slowly as what was being said came through.

 

“-ey Rick. Come on buddy.” John’s voice was soft but insistent. “You back with us?”  Rick nodded slightly. “I know this is a lot to process but listen. It’s going to be okay. That I promise you.” The sheriff’s face showed nothing but assurance.

 

Rick swallowed thickly looked at him with eyes full of confusion and distress.

 

“H-how can you promise that?”

 

John nearly broke as the man’s voice cracked.

 

Before John could answer the front door opened and the overweight man, Otis, rushed in gasping and wheezing.

 

“Is he alive?”

 

John glared at the man resisting every instinct that screamed to end him.

 

“For now,” he replied in a deep growl. With a shake of his head John forced himself to be calm. After a few deep breaths, he straightened from where he had squatted in front of Rick so he could see the man’s face. He turned from them looking for a place to wash Carl’s blood off. Rick had enough to deal with. Staring at his son’s blood while his mind tried to drive him crazy with all the ‘what if’s would not help.

 

“T-there’s a bathroom right there,” Otis meekly pointed out and motioned to a door not too far away.

 

Without a word, John went into the small room and slammed the door shut. He grimly set about the task of scrubbing an innocent’s blood from his skin.

 

 

……

 

 

Scott tracked the trio from the church easily. His time away from the interstate had cleared his sense of smell well enough that tracking was no longer a problem.  The young alpha slowed at the scent of decay and knew there were walkers ahead. Two of them from the sound of it. He concealed himself in the brush and moved as silently as he could while following the small groups combined scents. He stopped just short of a small clearing that smelled heavily of blood and panic.

 

In the clearing, he saw two walkers feasting on a downed deer. Thankfully, there was no sign of human remains. Brown eyes widened as they were drawn to a dark patch of blood not far from the gruesome meal. The remnants of the Sheriff’s uniform shirt lay around it. The scent of gunpowder still strong in the air proved this to be where the rifle shot they had heard was discharged. Scott’s anger and frustration triggered his shift. The walkers lifted their gore covered faces from the carcass at the sound of a deep growl.

 

The werewolf stepped out from the brush with a familiar bat in hand. The two walkers clumsily staggered to their feet and began moving towards Scott. They reached hungry grasping hands towards their would-be prey while it watched back with glowing red eyes. With an enraged snarl the bat came down with all the power of a pissed-off supernatural powerhouse. The creatures were soon relieved of the burdens of their respective heads.

 

 

……

 

 

John left the bathroom and took a seat beside Rick on the sofa. The man’s pale exhausted gaze focused on nothing as he absently turned his wedding ring around his finger. The two fathers sat beside each other in total silence each knowing what the other was feeling. No words were needed. John could only hope that his presence was of some comfort to the suffering man. The window before them displayed a serenity that mocked him while he suffered the chaos of his thoughts and emotions. After all this crap started John never thought he’d ever see a peaceful place again. Now here he was in probably the most picturesque of settings and all he could see was the blood that stained his white undershirt. He could feel it on his skin and it made him want to tear his flesh off. The image of Carl laying on the ground bleeding while he tore his uniform into a bandage was forever burned into his mind. Instead of the quiet, he heard everything else. The quiet quick movements and words from the make shift emergency room made it impossible to hear the faint sound of Carl’s body struggling on. The frantic beat of Rick’s heart made him tense. Otis’ whispered prayers from across the room grated on his last nerve. All of it combined with the mantra running through his own mind…….

 

“ _All my fault_.”

 

The door to the room opened and Hershel appeared wiping his hands clean on a towel looking grim. Rick and John were on their feet and in front of him instantly.

 

“He’s stable for now. Do you know his blood type?”  The elderly man asked.

 

“A positive. S-same as mine.” Rick answered shakily.

 

John’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. What were the odds that both sets of fathers and sons would have the same blood type? Something was up but he’d analyze it later. There were more pressing matters.

 

“That’s good. You’ll need to stay close. I’m gonna need you. The deer slowed the bullet down. The only reason he’s still alive but it didn’t exit clean. It broke up. I counted six fragments lodged in his abdomen,” the old man explained.

 

“Can I see him?” Rick asked, his voice shaking.

 

With a nod of his silver head he moved aside to allow the worried father through. Rick rushed through without hesitation. John’s way was blocked before he could follow.

 

“Listen Alpha…” Hershel started.

 

The Sheriff stiffened but didn’t show his surprise.

 

“…I don’t want any trouble from your pack. This is a peaceful farm.”

 

“How…” John began but was cut off.

 

“I was an emissary once upon a time. It was one of the oldest packs in Georgia, until the Alpha Pack came through and destroyed it. My Alpha was honorable enough to protect us until the end but…”

 

“The Alpha Pack is gone.”

 

John was certain his memories of the Demon Wolf were very different than the man in front of him. Memories of Deucalion fighting off a massive group of walkers so the rest of them could escape from the Hale vault were still very fresh and painful. He had been Scott’s beta then but, not knowing the rules, he unintentionally made himself an alpha by taking out Deucalion with a single high powered sniper shot to the head from afar. It had been a mercy killing to prevent a comrade from suffering a horrible death. The moment the Demon Wolf’s red eyes faded, John’s beta gold inherited both color and power. It had been so overwhelming he’d almost gone feral. Stiles brought him back though. One swift slap across the face and a reminder that his son needed him was enough to bring the newly empowered alpha wolf back from the brink of insanity. John shook off the memories. Now wasn’t the time to dwell.

 

“Was it your pack?” Hershel still seemed tense.

 

“No. A Darach killed off most of them.”

 

“And Deucalion?”

 

“That was my doing,” John said firmly even if it killed him a bit inside.

 

The older man let out a relieved sigh and seemed to relax.

 

“You have my thanks.”

 

John barely kept himself from snapping that he didn’t want gratitude for killing a good friend. A good man. In those last days, Deucalion had more than made up for his past and was living a life of peace before the outbreak. During the chaos he’d saved more human lives by protecting convoys traveling to the refugee camps than any military effort could have.

 

“Does he,” Hershel indicated the man sitting next to the bed with a small move of his head, “know about…”

 

“No. But I’m thinking now may be a good time to fill him in,” John said looking at the wrecked man holding his unconscious son’s hand.

 

“So, you intend to give the child the bite?” Hershel asked cautiously.

 

“Only if Rick consents,” the blonde man replied giving him a challenging look.

 

“John!”

 

The Sheriff looked out the window to see Scott running up the yard.

 

“Another of your pack?”

 

“Yes. He’s an alpha too.” This raised Hershel’s eyebrow. “No. I didn’t start a new Alpha Pack. When the world goes to hell compromises have to be made. We exist in the same pack.”

 

“John!” Scott called again.

 

He went to meet the teen out on the steps.

 

“What happened?” The boy sounded slightly winded giving testament to just how fast he’d been running.

 

“A hunting accident. Carl was shot,” John explained walking down the steps. Scott looked floored but his eyes moved around wildly like he was trying to come up with a solution to a problem. He dropped his bloodied bat and grabbed his own head in full ‘Scott freak-out’ mode.

 

“My God. We _have_ to tell Rick! The bite might save…”

 

“Way ahead of you, kid. Slow down.” John reassured the teen as he grabbed young man’s shoulder’s and gave them a firm squeeze.

 

“Scott?”

 

The pair turned to see Rick in the doorway.

 

“Rick! I heard the shot and followed your tracks here,” Scott explained quickly knowing that John wanted to handle the big reveal. The clearly exhausted man looked like he wasn’t entirely buying it. It would be a moot point soon anyway.

 

The sound of Carl screaming made all of three men tense then run into the house. Patricia, Otis’ wife, was coming out of the room. She spotted Rick and motioned for him to follow her.

 

“He needs a transfusion now.” She informed him.

 

Rick felt like he was walking into a nightmare he couldn’t seem to wake from. Hershel was trying to hold Carl down while he had a pair of forceps in the belly wound.

 

“Dad!” Carl sobbed hysterically. The sound quickly turned into a wail.

 

“You! Hold him down!” Hershel motioned to the older Alpha with a jerk of his head.

 

John was at Carl’s side instantly and steadied the boy but he continued to scream and beg for the pain to stop.

 

“Stop it! You’re killing him!” Rick screamed.

 

“Rick, do you want your boy to live?” Hershel asked harshly not stopping what he was doing.

 

“He needs blood!” Patricia insisted.

 

“Rick! Let them work,” John ordered meeting his eyes from across the bed. Rick obediently nodded and soon felt the needle hit its mark in his vein.

 

“He’ll be okay,” John insisted still holding Rick’s gaze. Carl’s screams were lessened to whimpers and small sobs as he watched Hershel work. A small movement drew the father’s attention away from John and down to where Carl was being held down. Rick stared wide eyed at John’s arm. He could see the veins running black from where the two were in skin to skin contact. It looked like something was being drained from the small pale figure. Scott was suddenly on the child’s other side with his hand wrapped around Carl’s free one. After a few seconds the same thing began to happen to the teen’s own arm. Noticing what had caught Rick’s attention John cursed inwardly. “I swear I’ll explain after the transfusion is done and your boy is resting.” Carl’s eyes started to droop and then, with a quiet sigh, he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

“He’s passed out,” Hershel said as he dropped the freed fragment into the waiting surgical pan with a sharp clank. “One down. Five to go.”

 

……

 

Rick stared at his unconscious son while his own blood was drawn out and flowed into the injured child. In the meantime, John and Scott had moved into the living room to speak with Hershel. John had said he would explain everything after the transfusion only stating after a bit of prodding that the two had ‘taken some of Carl’s pain’. While he was grateful for that, Rick was still left dumbfounded. He, surprisingly enough, felt no fear. After all, he had been around John and Scott for days at this point and was certain they would never hurt him or his son. Hell, with the dead walking around, he really wasn’t surprised there were other things out there that were beyond simple explanation. He had just never in a million years thought he would ever cross paths with any of them.

 

Patricia began removing the needle from his arm and applied a pressure bandage to the area. She helped him slowly rise from the seat and after a few steps to test his strength he waved her off with a quiet thank you. The blonde woman went back to her duties in tending to Carl as Rick made his way to meet the others in the living room. John was patiently waiting by the front door when the deputy spotted him. The look he received from the older man was guarded yet still concerned.

 

“Hershel’s older daughter left to get your wife,” he said. Rick nodded and moved to settle on the couch. John moved to a chair that had been placed in front of it.

 

 The pair sat across from each other in complete silence for several minutes, neither knowing how to break the tension. Rick was looking John over for any changes that may have occurred since he last saw him. There were none to be found though. This was the same John he’d met at the CDC. The one he’d looked up to and strategized with on the interstate. The same man he made a promise to. This was still John Stilinski.

 

“Did-” Rick cleared his throat nervously. “Did it hurt?” Rick asked shattering the heavy silence and gesturing towards the other’s arm. John shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

 

“I’d never leave a child in pain.”

 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Rick insisted.

 

“Yes.” John huffed in mild amusement at the man’s persistence.

 

“Thank you,” Rick swallowed heavily, “for sparing him that.” John tried to brush off the gratitude but Rick refused to let the moment be lost back into an awkward silence. It was better to do it quick. Like ripping off a bandage. He took a deep breath and plowed forward. “So, I supposed the obvious question is: What are you?” John met his gaze with a steady one of his own as if looking for something.

 

“Before I answer that,” John began, “I want you to keep one thing in mind; None my people nor I are a danger to your group.” The pair continued to hold each other’s eyes. “Except for Shane. That punk is begging to get his ass handed to him.”

 

Against his will, Rick snorted out a small laugh. It was normal at first but slowly it grew and took on a bit of a hysterical edge. It seemed the stress of situation finally seemed to get to him as the laugh began to dissolved into chocked sobs. He covered his face trying to hide his sudden weakness but it poured from his eyes freely now that the dam had broken. Rick felt John sit beside him and put his hand on his back. That small gesture of comfort seemed to ease some of his pain and fear in the ocean of chaos he had been damn near drowning in since waking in the that hospital bed weeks before. Was John using that strange draining thing again? It took a while but Rick was finally able to calm himself and he looked at John’s concern’s face.

 

“You good?” John asked with a small understanding smile.

 

“Yeah ‘m alright.” Rick nodded as he wiped the tears from his face. With a last reassuring pat, John returned to his seat. The deputy missed the reassuring the weight of the other’s hand but had no intention of asking for any further comfort.

 

“What are you?” he asked again his voice raw from his crying jag.

 

John pursed his lips for a moment and looked away like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it. Blowing out a heavy breath, he decided took a page out of the other man’s book and dove right on in. His eyes were glowing red when he looked back at Rick.

 

“A werewolf,” he replied in a voice that seemed to rumble from his chest.

 

Rationally, Rick knew he should have felt some sort of fear but he didn’t. The world was ending and the dead were walking around eating the living. _This_ was barely a blip on the radar.

 

“Show me.” It just popped out. Later he wouldn’t have been able to say why he said it. Maybe it was the cop in him still needing hard evidence. After all he just found out that a creature of myth was sitting a foot away of him. As crazy at it sounded, glowing red eyes were not going to cut it.

 

John nodded in understanding. They had been in the same line of work, after all. Evidence was gold. The blonde closed his eyes and moved his head as if he were popping his neck. The cracks sounded like bones were shattered and Rick’s eyes widen as he watched the transformation.  A low rumble vibrated through the room as the Sheriff’s features contorted.

 

The hairline lowered and the hair itself became thick and wild, as if hands had been running through it all day. Rick watched in amazement as John’s entire facial structure changed before his eyes. His forehead broadened and eyebrow ridges seemed to bulge, taking the place of the hair that used to be there. All the softness was eaten away from the flesh within moments. Rick caught sight of the sharpening tips his ears. Cheeks flattened though the bones looked sharp as knives. His slightly crooked nosed flattened and dipped a fraction at the tip. Rick flinched at the sound of bone snapping and saw John’s jaw widening and lowering. As if to accommodate the change, the man opened his mouth wide as if yawning revealing deadly teeth that looked like they could rip flesh from bone in seconds. The Sheriff’s fists opened and the fingers stretched to reveal even powerful claws where blunt human nails used to be. John finally popped his jaw and closed his mouth but still his bottom K-9’s protruded peeking out from his bottom lip. With a sigh, he settled his head and fixed Rick in his sights and the man felt completely vulnerable in front of this apex predator.

 

Those eyes glowing like rubies in the sunlight and were so intently focused on Rick he couldn’t help the shiver he felt down his spine. The former deputy subconsciously recognized the threat before him and the instinctive urge to run, but Rick _knew_ John Stilinski. There was a knowledge nearly bone deep that told him that John would _never_ hurt him. So, shaking off his baser instincts, he took another longer look.

 

Now he saw that the werewolf was watching him patiently. Waiting to see what the human’s judgement would be. All at once Rick understood. This man had been a specimen in a lab and seen as something… _less_. Behind that steady glowing gaze was a flicker of fear. Fear of rejection, humiliation, of _being_ feared. In that moment, Rick came to the realization of the risk John was taking with this revelation.

 

Rick felt fear for many reasons. He feared for his son’s life. He feared what the future may hold and that he might not be strong enough to stand against the tide.

 

What Rick Grimes did _not_ fear…was John Stilinski.

 

Slowly, Rick reached out and took hold of John’s hand in a tight grip.

 

“This doesn’t matter,” he said. “You eased my son’s pain. You helped us. That’s what _does_ matters. You’re just John Stilinski to me.” Slowly the glow faded from the Sheriff’s eyes along with the changes in his features.

 

“Thank you.” The relief was evident.

 

The moment was broken by Hershel coming into the room with a grim expression. Both men rose to their feet in tandem.

 

“We need to discuss the boy’s situation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the new chapter. Apologies about the delay. New job was killing my soul and my free time. I just recently quit that place and am looking for a new job. I am soooo done with customer service jobs though.   
> Anyway! Back to the matter at hand. I really appreciate all the support you guys have given me on this fic. The next chapter needs editing and then I can post it. Hopefully soon. I know I put in this chapter the John's really relying on the bite and so is Scott. I also know Teen Wolf loves to stress that people can die from the bite but lets suspend that rule for my fic okay? Okay. It has been brought to my attention that I've been bashing a bit too much on Lori and Shane... Uh... I tagged it. It's gonna keep happening. Especially with Lori. But the bashing does serve a purpose other than to serve my self satisfaction. That's just a bonus. So hang in there. The ride's about to get a lot bumpier.

**Author's Note:**

> So guys. What do you think? Is it worth continuing? Well I'm gonna write it anyway. My lovely beta GravyBaby is gonna be a busy bee with all the crap I have to write.  
> I will eventually get back to that fic where Grown up Stiles is a hawt fucking deputy but I'm still working on it. And if you're into this fic you're in for a long bumpy ride.


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